Greenleaf and Imladris
by Tales by Eresse
Summary: A multistory series chronicling the millennia spanning relationship of Legolas and Elrohir from the moment they meet beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great to the years of the War of the Ring and beyond.
1. Meldir: At First Sight 1

**Warning:** I first posted this series two years ago and it is currently archived in other sites. I hesitated to post it here due to its sexual content and orientation. Therefore, please heed this warning: This is slash fiction with a smattering of het and many parts carry an M rating

This story also departs from the popular interpretation of elven law and culture that purports that sexual intercourse automatically results in wedlock. Semantics being what it is, I thought that particular passage open to other interpretations. It could just as well have meant that elven marriage was validated by sexual consummation alone without need of a formal ceremony and the like. Hence the ability to forego rituals during times of crisis.

Personally, I find the concept of abstention from premarital sexual relations rather unrealistic for a race of immortal beings so passionate they rebelled against the Powers that be and defiantly went into exile over this, waged war against a Vala for several centuries as much on a point of honor as out of vengeance and knew desire to such a degree that some attempted abduction and/or coercive marriage to gain their ends. Besides, Middle-earth seems very much alike to a period in our world's history that was hardly known for moral or sexual rectitude, even among some members of the clergy (this is not meant to impugn the Church's reputation or integrity - it is merely a statement of a historical fact) and I thereby wrote accordingly.

P This being fanfiction I thought it permissible to apply alternative interpretations of certain issues so long as I did not change characters, places, timelines and events beyond recognition or credibility. If any divergence from convention is not your cup of tea, then cease and desist immediately. Go no further. But if you do not mind stepping a bit outside the bounds of those conventions, welcome aboard and I do hope you enjoy reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Summary:** The twins and Legolas' first encounter in Greenwood the Great leads to a close and lasting friendship.

**Disclaimer: **The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** In the writing of the series, I seldom consulted sources outside of the three main books – _The Silmarillion_, _The Hobbit_ and _LotR_ – because I found the surfeit of details rather tortuous and sometimes even contradictory. But for the _very_ occasional foray into the other publications, I used _The_ _Peoples of Middle-earth_, _The Book of Lost Tales_, _The Shaping of Middle-earth_, _The Lost Road_, _Morgoth's Ring_ and _LACE_.

_**Meldir: At First Sight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Eryn Galen, _laer_ T.A. 234  
Morning dawned bright and golden on the High Pass in the Misty Mountains, the main passageway over the towering peaks to the lands east of the range. Following the route, a party of twelve travelers on horseback slowly made its way. Cloaked in grey, their heads hooded, they might have been mistaken for ordinary Men but for their slenderness and the exceptional grace with which they bore themselves even upon their steeds. As the morning lengthened and the sun grew warmer, they pulled back their hoods, revealing the long locks and leaf-shaped ears that marked them as altogether nonhuman. They were Elves from the hidden vale of Rivendell.

Elrond Peredhel glanced at his wife and sons. The Lord of the fabled elven-refuge sat tall and proud upon his steed. He was of an unusual comeliness born of his extremely mixed heritage. Maiarin, Elven and Mannish blood mingled in his veins with potent results. None could dispute the wisdom in his eyes or the battle-honed lines of his warrior's body and limbs. His obsidian mane and grey eyes spoke of Noldorin forebears, in striking contrast to his exquisite wife, Celebrían, whose silvery hair and azure gaze made her seem almost unreal.

The heiress of the Golden Wood carried herself with a cool elegance that frequently misled many into thinking her aloof and unsocial. Yet in truth the mistress of Imladris was a kindly soul with a wicked sense of humor and a probing mind. She had been gently raised in Lórien, sheltered for the most part from the vicissitudes of life in these uncertain days. She was knowledgeable about them as any intelligent being would be but she had rarely experienced them herself. Her doting husband had continued what her parents had wrought, taking care to shield her as they had done. Thus, there was an innocence about her that belied her innumerable elven years.

They were journeying with their sons and several members of their household to the Woodland Realm in Greenwood the Great. The visit to the kingdom of Thranduil, lord of the Silvan Elves of Eryn Galen, was an unprecedented event. For so long had the Sindarin king held aloof from the other Elf-lords, distrustful of their Noldorin connections, his dislike exacerbated by the role played by their last High King in the deaths of his father, Oropher, and a heartbreaking number of Wood-elves during the war of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men against the Dark Lord Sauron in the last age.

Not even his kinsman, Celeborn, Lord of Lórien, had managed to broker a diplomatic relationship between Greenwood and Rivendell or his own realm. Thranduil was as suspicious of Celeborn's Noldorin wife, Galadriel, as he was of Elrond.

But Elrond had persevered and the two Elves had finally met the preceding year just before winter closed the passes of the Misty Mountains. The Peredhel had succeeded in thawing the Elvenking to the extent of eliciting an invitation from said monarch to pay an extended visit to his kingdom the following summer with his entire family. Elrond had not wasted any time in organizing the trip. He did not care to jeopardize the chance of an alliance with the Woodland Realm by giving Thranduil enough time to repent of his actions and rescind the hard-won invitation.

He'd struggled, however, over the prospect of bringing his sons, debating endlessly with his wife about all the things that could go wrong with the twins around. Though in their nineties and past the age of majority, Elladan and Elrohir were still proving more than a handful to their oft beleaguered parents, teachers and most of the members of Elrond's household. But their mother had firmly insisted that they come along. Thranduil had invited the whole family. Would Elrond have him think there was something so dreadfully wrong that he would leave his sons behind?

Celebrían looked fondly at the twins. They were so much alike in appearance that they were oft mistaken as identical. Yet there were differences between the brothers both in their physical features and their personalities. They were tall and lean but with the slight tendency towards broader shoulders and meatier limbs that was a legacy of their sire's human ancestry. Both were exceedingly fair of countenance for they were equal parts their father and mother.

Their coloring was distinctly Elrond's and so they were raven-haired and grey eyed. But the blackness of Elladan's mane was softened by the faintest hint of brown and his eyes were lighter and tinged with blue, a trait inherited from their fair-haired mother in whose veins Vanyarin blood flowed as strongly as Noldorin. Elrohir's locks, on the other hand, were of an unusual blue-black and his eyes were purest grey akin to the color of twilight right before the stars emerged; some even swore that they seemed almost silvery.

Their differences in personality were less subtle than their physical dissimilarities. Elladan was the warmer, friendlier twin; the one who met and made friends with ease and speed. Elrohir was cooler and more cautious yet when he finally made up his mind as to someone's worth was then fiercely loyal and protective.

Elladan _was_ diplomatic as a matter of course. As a rule, he would sooner bite his tongue than straightly utter anything offensive unless, of course, he completely detested someone and therefore considered it a waste of time being polite. Elrohir _could_ be diplomatic if he put his mind to it and if it was absolutely necessary to be so. Indeed, he could be as effective as the oiliest courtier if he thought it worth his effort. But he was more often painfully frank in his opinions especially in the case of fools or blackguards.

The twins were masters at getting what they wanted. But while Elladan preferred to cajole his way into achieving his desire and could probably charm a scorpion into stinging itself to death, Elrohir relied on the sheer force of his personality and was more apt to bend others to his will. Only those for whom he held the highest regard escaped being subjected to such handling.

Both brothers were high-spirited and adventurous. Rivendell may have been founded as a refuge by their father but there were times when the members of Elrond's household wondered if they needed refuge of another sort from his twin sons. Evil had no place in their makeup or malice or the need to torment others. But mischievous they could be and usually were and therefore mayhem oft followed in their wakes. It was common wisdom in Imladris that when the twins were up to no good, it was better to be far, far away. Like at the Grey Havens for instance.

In one particular matter were they already gaining quite a reputation and a disreputable one at that. Their carnal appetites had developed earlier than most Elves and hardly had they attained their majority when they had began to indulge it far more diligently than was considered normal for the average male Elf. This unusual predilection was ascribed to their half-elven heritage though it was also pointed out that Elrond had never been promiscuous as his sons promised to be.

In all this, Elladan was considered the more restrained of the two. For though initially aloof and wary in any first encounter, Elrohir was very difficult to rein in once he wanted someone or something. Elladan was less guarded yet at the same time also less passionate about people and things. The depths of Elrohir's feelings, once plumbed, were almost bottomless.

"Just how important is this visit, _Ada_?"—Papa—Elladan asked, breaking his mother's line of thought. The question reminded the Elven couple that they had not fully briefed their sons on the significance of the visit, caught up as they had been in preparing for it.

"I would call it a coup, _ion nín_"—my son—Elrond replied. "Considering how much Thranduil detested the Noldor, this invitation of his is nothing short of a miracle. I have no doubts that were Oropher still alive, such a thing would not come to pass. We must count it a most opportune blessing that Thranduil is more farseeing and practical than his father ever was."

"But is an alliance with the Wood-elves all that necessary? With the Dark Lord overthrown, what is there to fear?"

Elrond shook his head. "We overthrew Sauron but we did not utterly defeat him," he pointed out. "Isildur ensured that when he did not destroy the One Ring as we had counseled him. The ring may be lost but it is not unmade. Until that comes to pass, I do not believe it wise to relax our guard. Already, many of our people have left these lands. We are no longer as numerous as we were in the last age. Only in unity with our remaining kin will we find the strength to withstand what the years to come may bring. 'Tis well that Thranduil perceived the advantages of forging an alliance with us. He, too, seeks to secure the future of his people."

"Did you know him well?" Elrohir inquired.

"Well enough. He lived in Lindon for a while, south of the Lhûn. We sometimes went hunting together. We might have become good friends had he and Oropher not left for Greenwood."

"Why did he include you in his animosity?" Elrohir queried. "I thought 'twas only the Noldorin exiles he hated. What did he hold against you?"

"His father's death," Elrond replied briefly.

Elrohir said in surprise: "But Oropher launched his assault against the Dark Lord before Gil-galad gave the signal. Why should Thranduil blame you for that?"

"Thranduil is cognizant of his father's mistake. He does not blame anyone for that. But when he discovered his father's folly, he tried to send for help from Gil-galad. Unfortunately, the High King delayed in answering his plea and by the time our forces arrived, fully two-thirds of Oropher's people had been slaughtered, including Oropher himself."

"But 'twas not your fault," Elladan pointed out. "We understand his anger at Gil-galad but why you as well?"

Celebrían suddenly snickered, a sound so unlike her usual graceful laughter that it surprised her sons. "'Tis because someone told Thranduil that the High King's delay was due to a dalliance," she explained, smiling at her twins' stunned expressions.

"A dalliance, _Nana_?"—Mama—Elrohir exclaimed. "With whom?"

"Your father," Celebrían giggled as her husband turned a mild glare on her. His glare became a little more severe when their sons goggled at him in turn.

"A false tale," he stated tersely. "Both Círdan and Glorfindel were with us when Thranduil's messenger arrived. Besides, Gil-galad and I were never lovers despite what some fools chose to believe. And you should know better than to repeat that story!" he said pointedly to his mirthful wife.

Elladan managed to choke back his laughter at his sire's discomfiture. "Then what _did_ delay Gil-galad?"

Elrond sighed. "Anger. He was so enraged at Oropher's actions he almost did not send any help at all. Círdan and I had to convince him to do so but by then the damage had been done. Oropher was dead as were a great number of his people, that preposterous tale had been carried to Thranduil by Elbereth-knows-who and the surviving Wood-elves had decided to have no more to do with the decadent Golodhrim who thought nothing of taking their pleasure in the midst of battle. They only awaited the downfall of Sauron before renouncing their participation in the Alliance and severing all relations with us."

The twins whistled at the chain of incidents that had worsened the centuries-long chasm between the woodland kingdom and the Eldarin realms.

"What changed Thranduil's mind then, _Ada_?" Elrohir wondered. "Why this invitation to visit his kingdom?"

Celebrían laughed softly. "Your father finally managed to convince him that he was _not_ the cause of Gil-galad's delay," she explained.

Elrond had to grin. His wife's humor was infectious. "I told him I preferred fair-haired Elves," he chuckled. "One look at your mother was enough to persuade him that I spoke truly."

After a bout of shared laughter with his family, Elrond then said, "But truth be told, you can thank your mother and Queen Ithilwen for this opportunity." Elrond smiled proudly at his beauteous wife. "'Twas the best idea I ever conceived of when I brought her along on that first meeting with Thranduil. She and Ithilwen got along so famously that Thranduil decided to try an alliance with us for his wife's sake. 'Tis said he can never deny her anything."

The twins chuckled mischievously as their father's cheeks colored slightly. Elrond had never been able to deny their mother anything either!

"What are their sons like?" Elrohir asked curiously.

Celebrían was the one who answered. "Handsome for the most part and bidding fair to be as strong and skilled in arms as their father. Personally, I like the youngest prince."

"Legolas?" Elrond reacted with some incredulity. "He is a match for our sons in high spirits and the ability to get into mischief unaided!"

Celebrían smiled. "But kind-hearted and intelligent besides. And he has a great zest for life as well," she pointed out. "Melthoron is too much like Oropher in my opinion, and Brethildor shows promise as a warrior, nothing more. 'Tis a pity Legolas is not the eldest. He would make a worthier heir to Thranduil than either of his brothers. His abilities are already apparent though he is barely past his majority."

Elrond nodded. "You speak wisely as ever, _melethen_."—my love. "I, too, was struck by Thranduil's youngest. He seems delicate beside his brothers but I deem his appearance deceptive. There is hidden strength and courage in him."

Elladan smiled. "Then you do not object to our associating with him, high spirits and mischief aside?"

Elrond glanced at the older twin with a somewhat jaundiced eye. "And would my objection have any bearing on whether you befriend him or not?" At the shared grin between the brothers, he said: "I thought not. Why you see fit to afflict me with meaningless questions is beyond me."

Just then they crested the highest point of the pass and the eastern lands opened up before them. The twins stared at the vast carpet of green that lay before them. Eryn Galen, Greenwood the Great, the mightiest surviving forest in Middle-earth, spread out almost endlessly before their eyes.

"Thranduil's kingdom comprises the entire north of this forest," Elrond informed them. The brethren had to gasp in amazement. "A great realm, do you not agree, _ionnath nín_?"—my sons.

While the twins nodded in awe, their mother added: "And an important one if we are to prevail over whatever evils are yet to come. Thranduil's people may not be as learned as the Eldar but they are valorous and skillful and loyal to a fault. They will make strong allies."

"I expect you both to be on your best behavior," Elrond sternly told his sons. "Or is that too much to ask of you?"

Elrohir smiled. "We will do our best, _Ada_," he replied, "but if Legolas is, as you claim, our match in getting into interesting situations, you can hardly blame us if something untoward happens."

"Aye," Elladan agreed. "We would not offend our royal host by declining any offer of entertainment."

Elrond groaned and shared a long-suffering look with his wife. "Well, I survived the Battle of Dagorlad," he grumbled. "Mayhap I will escape unscathed from this visit, the Valar willing!"

With considerably more swiftness they began the descent down the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. They still had several days of travel ahead of them before they would reach the borders of the great forest and none wished to tarry at this point of the journey.

oOoOoOo

As they approached the elven path that led into the deeps of Greenwood, they espied the party of Wood-elves awaiting them. It was easy to identify Thranduil at once though he was clad as simply and starkly as the rest of his party. The golden-maned Elf-king radiated power and authority. He was well built and exceedingly handsome. The tales of a Vanyarin foremother in his ancestry were apparently true, the twins decided.

Elrohir scanned the rest of the royal family. Like the King the others stood out because of the way they carried themselves. Queen Ithilwen was a darkly glowing beauty, a shining moon to her husband's blazing sun. The younger twin let his cool gaze rake over the three younger Elves at her side. These were obviously the princes of the Woodland Realm. As different from each other as Elladan and I are alike, he thought with amusement.

He spotted Melthoron at once. That one exuded pride and arrogance and an ill-concealed temper. He was fair-haired like his sire though the gold of his locks were of a darker hue but his features were neither Thranduil's nor Ithilwen's. Oropher's then, Elrohir deduced, remembering his mother's words.

Brethildor was the darkling prince. He had the Queen's coloring but his face was mostly the King's. He seemed friendly enough but his somewhat vacuous expression did not promise witty repartee. Here was one who would fare best away from veiled or crafty maneuverings.

Elrohir's pewter eyes strayed to the last prince. They narrowed with interest as he regarded the youngest son of Thranduil. Here was the one his mother had praised as the most worthy of the King's sons.

Legolas was slender and indeed almost delicate looking beside his brothers. Silver and gold mingled in his shining locks while finely sculpted features recalled the Queen's countenance. A good-looking youth with the promise of even greater comeliness when he matured into full adulthood. But what impressed Elrohir most was the depth of thought and feeling visible in the sapphire eyes. Celebrian was right. For an Elf barely past his majority, the youngest prince was possessed not only of intelligence but also of a yearning to learn all that life could offer. But there was also a trace of what Elrond had called high spirits in the cerulean orbs. That could only mean a love of fun and adventure as well.

Elrohir glanced at his brother and saw that Elladan was also regarding the princeling with interest. The older twin felt his brother's gaze and looked at him. They grinned at each other. They were in one accord regarding Legolas. Life would not be boring around Thranduil's youngest son, of that they were certain.

The two rulers addressed each other cordially but formally. Despite their former acquaintance, too much had happened in the past for them to be as much at ease as they once had been. But Celebrían and Ithilwen greeted each other with warmth and affection. There were no past issues between the two Elf-ladies to act as a barrier to their friendship now.

Elrond then presented his sons and the other members of his entourage. He had asked his chief counsellors, valiant, sage Glorfindel and gentle, learned Erestor, captain of Rivendell's forces and his chief steward respectively, to accompany the party. Rounding out the group were a half dozen Imladrin warriors foremost of whom were masterful Daurin and quiet Enedrion.

The twins just managed to suppress their scowls of disgust when they were presented to Melthoron. The Crown Prince was far too haughty and condescending for either to stomach with any grace. Brethildor, on the other hand, presented a challenge of another sort. His first comment dealt with the Rivendell Elves' weapons, which were of Noldorin make. The twins soon saw they would elicit nothing more interesting from this prince. Elladan choked back a snicker as Elrohir strove not to roll his eyes in exasperation.

But Legolas proved altogether different as the brothers had surmised.

"And this is Legolas, my youngest," Thranduil informed the twins.

The blue eyes were warm and welcoming if a little startled by the twins' symmetry. "_Suilad,_ _gwenyn o Imladris_"—Greetings, twins of Rivendell—he smiled. "I hope you will find Greenwood as enchanting as they say the hidden vale is."

Two pairs of sable eyebrows rose slightly at the compliment to their home.

"Enchantment is in the eye of the beholder," Elladan replied. "I dare say we will find your realm as fascinating as ours."

"To live beneath the eaves of such a great forest is an experience neither of us would willingly forego," Elrohir added gravely.

Legolas' smile widened. "As to that, I can promise you much," he offered. "That is, if you are up to it?"

The challenge, however lightheartedly uttered, was there. The twins suddenly grinned in unison.

"We would be delighted to explore the fastness of Eryn Galen with you, O Prince," Elladan chuckled.

"And more besides," Elrohir drawled. "We do have two whole months to indulge ourselves after all."

Elrond and Thranduil could not help overhearing the exchange. Both lords groaned in concert then stared at each other in surprise. Understanding and shared compassion dawned. The smallest smile touched Thranduil's otherwise frosty countenance. Elrond considered his wife's wisdom in insisting their twins come along for the visit. They might yet be the key to friendship between our two realms, he mused with a muted grin.

Just which of the princes had drawn the twins' liking became blatantly apparent. No sooner were the pleasantries over than Legolas found his mount sandwiched between the brethren's steeds. Their parents watched them with interest and, admittedly, just a hint of apprehension.

Glossary:  
meldir – friend  
Eryn Galen – Greenwood the Great  
laer - Sindarin for summer  
T.A. – Third Age  
Peredhel (sing.) - Half-elf/Half-elven  
Golodhrim - class plural of Golodh or 'Deep Elf', Sindarin for Noldor

_To be continued_…


	2. Meldir: At First Sight 2

**Meldir: At First Sight**  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
They had travelled little more than 30 leagues when the lead rider turned into what appeared to be a dense wall of vegetation. But lo and behold the thick brush parted as they approached to reveal another path leading northeast of their current location. As soon as every rider had turned into the hidden trail, the shrubbery closed behind them like a dungeon door. The brethren glanced at the youngest prince, eyebrows rising in appreciation of this use of elvish enchantment. Legolas smiled back proudly.

They kept to this path for the rest of the journey, another 30 leagues or so. Finally, they came upon a small glen. Before them, nestled amongst the trees, was what appeared to be a dark tunnel but on second glance proved to be yet another track lined by trees, the largest the twins had ever seen. So densely packed were the trunks of these giants that from afar they looked like solid walls and permitted very little light to illuminate the natural corridor. The brethren glanced about, became aware of the presence of beings in the concealing brush, and realized there were unseen sentries all around. But try as they might they could see no evidence of other Elves; they could only sense them.

Only when they came up to the tunnel did the Wood-elves suddenly show themselves, stepping out from behind tree and brush to bow to their king before slipping back into concealment save for two sentries who remained at the mouth of the path. Into this near lightless hallway did the party venture, the Rivendell Elves understandably discomforted by such close and dark quarters.

After a few minutes, they emerged from the tunnel into warm sunlight. The twins' eyes, after adjusting to the sudden brightness, widened at the sight they beheld. Across a large clearing a wide stone bridge spanned a dark, fast-moving stream. Across the bridge was a high hill with two great doors of stone. Balconies graced the upper portion of the hill and there were windows here and there, some small, some great and tall. Ancient trees framed the hill, old vines trailing down the wide trunks and dark moss dappling the thick bark.

Elladan followed the lines of the old trees, his keen eyes skimming upwards. With a start, he became aware of bridges of vine among the topmost branches as well as wooden platforms that had been skillfully worked into the foliage. He grinned with appreciation when he espied Elves crossing the fragile bridges with all the speed and grace of gazelles. Upon the platforms stood even more sentries.

Scanning the surroundings he also discovered that there were dwellings in the woods and even up in the trees. But they were so cunningly wrought that they looked almost as if they were part of the forest themselves. His attention was diverted back to the great hill as they crossed the bridge. Beneath them, the stream seemed to murmur menacingly. Halting at the vast doors, they all dismounted and the horses were led away, disappearing from sight as they passed around the side of the hill.

Thranduil turned his piercing gaze upon the great doors. Almost at once, they began to open outwards as if by magic. And indeed, enchantment had opened them for there were no Elves behind them. The twins glanced at Thranduil with some awe; the imposing slabs of heavy stone had responded to his unspoken command.

They were in for more surprises as they entered the cavernous hall. They had expected darkness and damp for they had thought they were entering nothing more than a cave. But the hall was bright and airy and light streamed in from numerous windows and doors. Going forward, they realized they were going deeper and lower into the hillside where torchlight gradually replaced natural light.

Coming to a large circular hall, they then turned down a short tunnel. As at the entrance of the cave, heavy doors suddenly swung open before them at Thranduil's silent command and they came upon an open space. Elrohir gaped at the vista before him. A large portion of the hill had been carved away and they now stood on a wide terrace that overlooked the great forest. Birdsong and the rustling of leaves as a cool breeze passed through them reached their ears. The fragrance of wood and herb and leaf perfumed the air.

They were led from the terrace down a wide covered path edged with trees; it looked like a pillar-lined hallway. And so they came to the residential pavilion of the palace which had been built into the most majestic trees the twins had ever seen. Created mostly from wood with stone and marble used sparingly, the pavilion blended into the forest around it. Porches and balconies and tall windows opened up virtually every chamber to the woods outside.

"But we thought you lived in the cave!" Elladan blurted out, diplomacy forgotten in his wonder.

Legolas chuckled. "A common misconception," he admitted. "The cave is for our protection in times of peril. Otherwise, we prefer to live in the open woods."

"We cannot blame you," Elrohir remarked. "Such beauty as there is here cannot be appreciated enough. You have a most wondrous home, Legolas."

The youngster smiled at the praise of his beloved forest.

The Rivendell party soon discovered that all the bedchambers were on the second level of the pavilion whilst the main dining hall, Thranduil's private study and other living quarters were on the ground floor. Legolas took it upon himself to show the twins their shared chamber. He could not help the pride that welled up within him as the brethren regarded their room with delight and amazement.

"It seems not only the Golden Wood can claim such wonderful homes," Elladan enthused.

"You've been to Lórien?" Legolas asked in awe.

"Aye, 'tis our grandparents' realm."

"Oh, of course, how stupid of me," Legolas said. "I had forgotten. You are also kin to my father's cousin, Lord Celeborn."

"You have not visited Lórien?" Elrohir inquired as he plopped down onto one of the beds.

Legolas shook his head. "_Ada_"—Papa—"does not encourage such distant sojourns from here. Not even he has travelled there. I envy you. I would dearly love to see more of Middle-earth."

"Well, if our sires come to an accord, you may very well get to visit Imladris."

"I should like that very much!" Legolas beamed.

oOoOoOo

The night proved entertaining in more ways than one. Thranduil and his queen had decided to keep the welcoming dinner on a more informal note to give their guests time to settle in. As such, ceremonial robes for the men were made optional and, with the exceptions of Elrond and Erestor, the Rivendell Elves attired themselves in courtly tunics and hose.

Elrond and Erestor looked majestic to say the least. The robes they wore were in the fashion of the Eldar and were, therefore, long, multi-layered and completely closed down the front by clasps and ties.

In contrast, the formal robes of the Sindar and Silvan Elves of Greenwood were shorter and less concealing. They barely reached past their knees, were fastened at their breasts by single clasps, short chains or elaborate brooches, and opened up front to reveal their thin under-tunics and hose-enclosed limbs. The brief robes seemed less stately than the Eldarin style but on the right Elf they were no less impressive. Thranduil was a walking testament to that.

It was not to be wondered at that even in courtly wear the Wood-elves should differ from their Eldarin counterparts. Life without certitude, even for immortals, necessitated constant vigilance. Thranduil wielded no elven-ring to protect his realm and folk. Should there be a sudden crisis, it would be a simple matter to throw off their brief robes and press into battle if need be. Thus, even their ornamental weapons were not merely for show but as deadly as those they wielded on the fields of battle. Fierce and mettlesome, Thranduil's people were nothing less than glorious.

Nevertheless, the Rivendell party made a splendid sight, at par with their Greenwood hosts in beauty and elegance. Elrond and Celebrían, his dark to her silver, were a wondrous counterpoint to Thanduil and Ithilwen. Golden-maned Glorfindel and auburn-haired Erestor also made a striking pair as they assiduously turned their diplomatic talents on the woodland nobles. Even the warriors drew their share of compliments as they unobtrusively kept watch over their lord and lady.

But when the twins made their appearance accompanied by Legolas, a virtual hush descended on the dinner guests. Both brothers had attired themselves entirely in unrelenting black broken only by the delicate silver trim and thin belts of their richly textured tunics, the silken white of their shirts showing at their necks and wrists and the mithril circlets on their raven heads. As if to flaunt their human heritage, both had braided their sable locks into single thick plaits, reminiscent of the Men of the south of whom rumor still reached the Woodland Realm. Despite their youth, they looked fell and perilous and utterly stunning.

In stark contrast to the brethren, Legolas was all light and innocence. Clad entirely in white with only traces of gold and silver to lend formality to his raiment, he looked sweet and ethereal. Though still very young by a fully mature Elf's reckoning, his appearance gave ample warning of the great comeliness he would very soon attain.

They made a splendid picture as they entered the great hall, the slender and shining golden figure flanked by lithe and glowing darkness. Even their parents had to pause for breath at this first sight of their sons together.

As the evening progressed, there could be no denying the twins' lethal allure. Thranduil was heard to wryly remark that he now believed the tales of the brothers' early carnal exploits. Even maidens who should have known better, considering their greater years, found themselves flagrantly flirting with the twins. Not that the twins were averse to such attention. Indeed they gave as much as they received and more.

Legolas could only shake his head in amazement as his new friends reduced many a female Elf, both young and old, to blushes just by regarding them with their dark, frankly appreciative gazes. Had he been cognizant of it at the time, he might have seen more but Erestor, quick to spot potential trouble, moved swiftly to forestall it.

"_Gwenyn_"—twins—"I suggest you direct your attention to maids alone," he advised after watching Elladan's speculative regard of the strapping son of one of Thranduil's counsellors.

Both Elves glanced at him with surprise. "Why?" Elrohir queried. "Is there something wrong with the males of this realm?"

"Nay, not at all. But such passions have long been discouraged in Greenwood," Erestor explained.

"That is absurd," Elladan commented. "What could they gain from it?"

"Survival," the counsellor said. "The Elves who did not make the journey to Valinor were left to fend for themselves in these mortal lands. When evil encroached on their realms, some had to make drastic choices to ensure their races would not be wiped out by attrition."

"So they forbade the binding of male and male spirit," Elrohir said in sudden comprehension.

"Likewise female and female," Erestor confirmed.

"Because such couplings would not produce new generations of Elves," Elladan mused, quickly picking up the meat of the matter.

"Exactly," Erestor said, pleased by the twins' perspicacity. "You understand now why I cautioned you? What is regarded as natural in other elven-realms is held to be aberrant here for the most part."

"For the most part?"

Erestor glanced at the younger twin. "I said they discouraged such pairings. I did not say they were able to abolish it completely. Not even we can purge from our nature what is intrinsic to it."

"Then why do they persist in its prohibition?"

"'Tis not a simple matter to go back on millennia of established tradition. It is part of their culture now. It will be many years before the ancient ways return to this kingdom."

"You speak as if they _will_ return," Elladan commented.

Erestor smiled briefly. "If your father succeeds in securing this alliance with Eryn Galen, the isolation of Thranduil's people will come to an end. Sooner or late, what is inherent even in them will reawaken. But for now it would not be wise to flout our hosts' traditions. Indulge your interest in the maidens if you must, _pin nith_."—young ones— "Leave the _ellyn_"—male Elves—"alone."

The twins sighed then shrugged in acquiescence.

"A pity," Elrohir remarked with a grin. "These Greenwood males could give the Lórien Elves much competition."

"Aye, it would have been fascinating to discover how and if they differ," Elladan added rakishly to which Erestor could only respond with a pained glare.

"Differ in what?"

The three Eldar turned to face an inquiring Legolas and an obviously spoiling-for-a-fight Melthoron. The steward sighed with relief that the Sindarin princes had not heard their discussion. It was too soon to speak of such matters to any of Thranduil's sons, even the youngest though he seemed the most open and intelligent of the lot.

"We were merely discussing the differences between your people and the Galadhrim in the martial skills," Elrohir put in smoothly. "The Lórien archers are supposed to be the finest in Middle-earth."

Legolas smiled. "And you believe that?" he queried, preempting a caustic response from his older brother.

The brethren shrugged. "We have yet to see it proven otherwise," Elladan said.

Melthoron could not still his tongue. "Then we shall prove it to you, Peredhel," he declared haughtily.

Legolas shook his head. "But how shall they make any comparisons if there are no Lórien Elves to display their skill?" he pointed out reasonably.

"As to that, mayhap we can take their part," Elrohir said coolly, much to Erestor's dismay. "'Twas they who trained us after all."

"Aye, it would be entertaining," Elladan agreed.

"Entertaining?" Melthoron repeated, his eyes narrowed.

"To see if we can bring a woodland prince low," the older twin grinned, ignoring the counsellor's frightful glower. The temptation to bait this contemptuous, barely civil Elf was just too great to resist.

Melthoron turned red at the twin's challenge. "We shall see who is brought low," he growled. "Prepare to grovel, sons of Elrond!"

With that he spun on his heel and angrily strode off. Legolas regarded the twins thoughtfully. Both were grinning wickedly.

"You do like trouble, don't you," he remarked.

Erestor openly groaned at this woefully inadequate observation.

_To be continued_…


	3. Meldir: At First Sight 3

_**Meldir: At First Sight**_   
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
Nearly a full week passed before Melthoron was able to act on his threat. In the intervening days, the brethren had ample time to discover the benefits of befriending Thranduil's youngest son. Legolas was not merely friendly; he took the time to show them around his father's realm. Both brothers enjoyed themselves to the hilt as the delights of the Woodland Realm presented themselves to them whether said delights entailed hunting in the deep woods, baiting the Elvenking's soon frazzled household or choosing from amongst the numerous Elf-maids bent on getting them between their silken sheets. In this last, Legolas found himself a little out of his depth; he'd never seen such lustfulness in any Elf he knew, not even the strapping warriors of his father's army.

"You'd think they'd be exhausted by now," he commented with some admiration to his childhood friends, Sirgon, Mithrael and Heledir, the fifth morning since the arrival of the Rivendell party. "That's four nights in a row and a different maid each night!"

Heledir, a lusty youth himself, chuckled appreciatively. "At the pace they're setting there will be precious few maids left in Eryn Galen by the end of their stay," he mused.

"Precious few maids and a multitude of indignant Elves!" Mithrael, the scholar pointed out. "Can you not restrain them, Legolas?"

"Me? Restrain them?" Legolas snorted. "It would be far easier to whip a horde of Orcs into submission."

"But you like them very much, don't you," Sirgon observed. The son of one of Thranduil's counsellors, he was a shy, soft-spoken lad.

Legolas nodded, a smile gracing his finely wrought lips. "Aye, that I do," he said. "Indeed, if they could but stay longer, I would be most pleased."

Mithrael guffawed. "You would be pleased but methinks there are many who may decide to pass West should your wish come true. Your capacity for mischief has grown twofold under their influence, _ernilen_—my prince."

Legolas laughed. "So my father claims," he admitted. "And Melthoron's temper has grown ever shorter with every conquest the twins have made. They have bested him in this sport, at least, despite their years."

"What of his challenge to them?" Sirgon asked curiously.

Legolas shrugged. "I believe Melthoron intends to prove his mastery before the week is out."

"And will he?" Mithrael queried. "Prove his mastery, I mean. What think you of the twins' skills in archery?"

Legolas frowned thoughtfully. "I am not certain. One would think them too young to be much of a challenge to a warrior like my brother. But if there is one thing I have learned so far, it is to never underestimate them. You do so at your own peril."

"Then it shall be a most interesting match," Heledir said with a grin. "I imagine wagers will be on the high side for this contest."

"They already are," Mithrael affirmed.

"And who do they favor?" Legolas inquired.

"'Tis fairly equal. It seems the twins have gained many admirers."

"What about you, Legolas?" Sirgon asked. "Who do you favor?"

The prince leaned back with a smile. "I really should support Melthoron," he murmured. "He is my brother, after all."

"Then you think he will win?"

The smile grew broader. "I said I should support him," the prince said impishly. "I didn't say I would!"

As Legolas had surmised, Melthoron reissued his challenge to the twins two days hence. A fairly large group of Elves showed up to witness the contest. It was a mostly young crowd and a mixed one as both males and maidens jockeyed for the best position from which to watch the competition.

The rules were simple. Melthoron had had the master bowmen of the kingdom set up a series of targets, nine in all, each progressively harder than its predecessor. Alternately taking the first eight tests, he and Brethildor would pit themselves against Elladan and Elrohir respectively

The first targets were dealt with easily enough by all four Elves. Ranging from marks on tree trunks to crab apples balanced on the heads of nervous volunteers to moving targets catapulted high into the air, they were fairly simple for skilled marksmen. And skilled the four were as evidenced by their consistent success in hitting their marks. It soon became plain, however, that Elladan and Elrohir had not been jesting when they'd touted the Lórien Elves' abilities if they, the Galadhrim's students, were any indication of the former's proficiency.

While Brethildor enjoyed the competition for its own sake, the twins' masterful performance galled Melthoron. It was insupportable that two Elves more than three centuries his junior should be able to match him or his brother, test for test. He gritted his teeth when Elladan took on the eighth challenge after him, hitting the same tiny painted spot on a tree trunk with three arrows in swift succession, then embellished the result by driving a fourth into the very center of the first three. Even Thranduil's bowmen were seen to drop their jaws at this display by an Elf they'd considered a callow youngster. Their grudging respect and the spectators' admiration did nothing to appease the Crown Prince's fast fraying temper.

Nonetheless, he was as smug as could be when they went on to the ninth and last test, which all four of them would have to face. It was daunting to say the least. The archers had strung four strands of fine twine amidst the branches of a towering tree, made taut by heavy metal weights. To these strands they had attached tiny clusters of green grapes. Half concealed in the foliage, blending in with the greenery, they were exceedingly difficult to target accurately. In addition, a strong breeze constantly rustled the twigs and leaves to and fro obscuring the clusters even further.

Melthoron was confident of besting the twins in this last challenge for it was one he and Brethildor had assiduously practiced for many years while training with their father's archers. He had it on good authority that only the best and most arduously trained bowmen could take on this test. But to his dismay, Brethildor faltered at this last; he only managed to graze the cluster he'd chosen. With an apologetic grin and casual shrug to his brother, he stepped aside to let the Crown Prince take his turn. Melthoron glowered at him, unable to take the setback in stride.

With a discernible swagger, he selected his target, choosing for good effect the smallest cluster of all, which was barely discernable amongst the foliage even to keen elven eyes. The prince's bow sang and, a moment later, the arrow tore through the exact center of the cluster showering the Elves directly below it with pieces of fruit. He smiled sneeringly at the twins as appreciative applause followed his feat. Top that, his eyes taunted them.

Elladan and Elrohir studied the remaining clusters thoughtfully. When they remained thus for several seconds without moving, Melthoron snickered. "You can concede the match now if 'tis too difficult for you, _pin nith_"—young ones—he drawled. "After all, it takes years of practice to achieve this level of mastery. No one will fault you for accepting your limitations."

Elladan glanced at him, one eyebrow rising in disdain. "We will not concede," he said clearly. "We will finish the course."

"And as for limitations, we do not recognize any," Elrohir added. He looked at Elladan and nodded.

With dizzying speed and precision, they simultaneously fit their arrows to their bows, aimed and let loose. The sharp-tipped missiles flew straight and true. A concerted gasp arose as the arrows struck not the grape clusters but the nearly invisible strands from which they were strung, severing them and causing the fruits and metal weights to plummet down not in a showering of bits and pieces but as projectiles, the grapes exploding upon impact with the ground, the metal weights forming craters in the soil.

For the space of a heartbeat, silence reigned as the stunned spectators took the time to comprehend what the brethren had done. And then, someone began to clap his hands. It was Legolas.

Before long, others followed his lead and thunderous applause acknowledged the twins' performance. With typical aplomb, the two bowed almost theatrically, eliciting laughter from the crowd. There was not a single pair of eyes present that did not regard Elrond's sons with either masculine respect or feminine adoration. None but one that is.

Already put out by the attention the twins had received all week long, Melthoron was all the more enraged by this show of mastery by mere Elflings. Especially Elflings he contemptuously regarded as the spawn of noxious Noldor! Crimson with embarrassment, he barely reined in his infamous temper when, in his opinion, Brethildor lowered himself to congratulate them. Scowling, he watched the brethren as they started to walk away in Legolas' company.

Seeing the Crown Prince's displeasure, Elrohir paused and looked at him with amusement. "We do not make false threats or empty boasts," he said with a smirk. He turned his back on Melthoron and moved to catch up with Elladan and Legolas.

The infamous temper snapped. Snarling angrily, Melthoron launched himself at the younger twin, taking him down by his legs. A violent engagement inevitably ensued. To the anxiety of some and the glee of others, the two Elves were soon locked in a feral struggle for primacy. Elrohir's shock and incredulity at Melthoron's treacherous assault evolved into a fierce rage as their battle escalated. He would not let this arrogant, foul-mouthed kingling get the better of him!

Fists flew and legs lashed out in unfettered animosity. So furious was their fight that no one, not even their brothers, dared interfere. At length, incensed beyond reason or pity, Elrohir kneed the prince brutally in the groin then threw him off with a savage jerk. Melthoron landed on his belly with winding force. With unthinkable fleetness, Elrohir fell upon him and the prince found himself face shoved into the earth, a knee digging into his back and his arms pinioned effectively behind him.

Elrohir bent low and growled: "That was low even for you, _Edhel!_"—Elf!

Elladan now swiftly intervened. He placed a calming hand on his twin's shoulder. "Elrohir," he simply murmured.

His brother glanced up at him. Abruptly, he moved off the fallen prince and stood up. With nary a glance at the awed spectators, he strode off into the forest, his countenance so fearsome the Wood-elves swiftly cleared a path for him. Elladan and Legolas spared one look for Melthoron before hastening after him.

Legolas was astounded by his friend's capacity for such fury. He had thought him the more temperate of the twins. Now he realized he still had much to learn about the brethren this lesson notwithstanding. The younger twin's anger, while slow to kindle, once ignited was a frightening thing to behold.

Elrohir halted at the sound of his name being called. He looked back in time to see his brother and Legolas rapidly approaching. The sight of the youngest prince immediately quelled his anger and guilt swiftly took its place. He looked down, his cheeks burning with shame.

"I am sorry, Legolas," he said as soon as the two Elves reached him.

Legolas stared at him in surprise. "Why are you apologizing?" he exclaimed. "Melthoron began the fight. You were only defending yourself. In truth, I am surprised you did not maim him."

Elrohir stared at him in turn. "Maim him!" he gasped. "You did not actually expect that, did you?"

"But I did," the archer replied honestly. "Your considerable skill begged such an outcome. I should have liked to see how you would have done it."

Elladan regarded him with mingled shock and amusement. "For one so fair and fragile-looking, you are a bloodthirsty creature, _cunneth_"—princeling—he remarked.

Legolas shrugged. "But of course. I am a Wood-elf."

The simple statement reminded the twins that the deceptive serenity of Greenwood was just that – deceptive. Thranduil possessed much enchantment of his own but it was nowhere near the levels of power lent by the elven rings wrought by Celebrimbor and now wielded in secret by three Eldarin lords, one of them their own sire. As such, Eryn Galen's people staved off the evils without by sheer dint of their valor and skill. That meant a more primal, oft brutal reaction to the perils that threatened their realm.

Rivendell was ancient in spirit and steeped in culture and knowledge. Greenwood's soul was as primitive, mercurial and innocently wise as nature itself.

"Be that as it may, how am I supposed to show myself in your father's halls tonight?" Elrohir queried anxiously.

"As you always do, _meldir_."—friend. "My father may be harsh and quick-tempered at times but he is fair. No one can deny that Melthoron instigated that fight." Legolas placed a soothing hand on Elrohir's arm. "Come, you must freshen up. The evening meal is nigh on hand."

The two princes, Thranduil's eldest and Elrond's youngest, presented quite a sight that evening in the dining hall. Elrohir had an ugly bruise on his temple and the backs of his hands where raw with abrasions. But Melthoron was by far the more pitiful of the two sporting as he did a blackened eye, a split lip, a sprained wrist and an obvious limp.

Publicly, Elrond chastised his son for handling their host's heir so roughly whilst Celebrian decried his violence. Privately, the twins' parents were puffed up with pride that Elrohir had bested an Elf a few centuries his senior and this following so closely on the heels of the brethren's splendid performance with their bows. Glorfindel and Erestor were hard-pressed not to express their mirth at the betraying twinkle in their Lord and Lady's eyes.

Thranduil, on the other hand, gave a stern warning to his quarrelsome son and decided there and then that Melthoron needed more training if he could be trounced by a mere youngling. Ithilwen, on the other hand, was of the opinion that her eldest child had needed the figurative spanking dealt him by Elrohir and so regarded the brawl with creditable equanimity.

The entire incident boosted the twins' stock even further in the eyes of the Silvan Elves, their elemental natures appreciative of such basic and direct responses to the rigors of life.

_To be continued_…


	4. Meldir: At First Sight 4

_**Meldir: At First Sight**_   
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
It was one of the first but most certainly not the last of their misadventures. In the succeeding days, the three young princes got into enough scrapes to sorely test their parents' patience. It was as if the incident with Melthoron had unfettered their natural ebullience, which they had tried to suppress at their respective fathers' behests.

As Elrond wryly put it: "I had hoped Legolas would have a calming influence on them."

To which an exasperated Thranduil replied: "I had hoped your twins would have that effect on him!"

Adding to the already volatile stew of their combined mischief was the twins' predilection for involving as many other Elves as possible in their schemes. Thus, Legolas' friends, Sirgon, Mithrael and Heledir, found themselves hip deep in as much trouble as was possible to get into for any reasonably sensible Elf.

All three had cause to wonder if friendship was worth the peril of being regularly sought by irate Elves bent on ending their young lives. And all three went into hiding when an enraged Elvenking threatened to string up from the highest tree in the forest the perpetrators of the dastardly crime done to the palace's supply of ale. None of them had ever imagined that Legolas, in collusion with the Rivendell twins, would be audacious enough to lace the ale with a harmless dye that left virtually every guard and servant with shockingly purpled lips and tongues!

But even amidst the turbulence, there were lessons to be learned and knowledge to be uncovered. More so when matters of life and death were at stake.

The twins were adept hunters but they especially relished the challenges of the chase within the deeps of Greenwood with its densely packed trees, hidden trails, tangled thickets, and dark corners, a far cry from the sprawling forests that surrounded Rivendell.

One chase found them with a hunting party a few leagues south of the elven path, the farthest distance the twins had yet traversed from the Wood-elves' realm. The hunters had tracked a magnificent stag for the past hour or so, cornering it at last in a small clearing.

Elladan crept up silently, bow in hand. It was he who had first seen the stag and now he closed in for the kill. Elrohir and Legolas stayed close behind him. The other hunters hung back, deferring to the older twin's right to claim this bounty. Elladan looked back as Legolas lightly tapped his arm. The prince pointed across the clearing.

"I will go around and cut it off should it try to escape us that way," he whispered.

The twins nodded their acquiescence and spared the princeling a brief glance as he moved into the brush before focusing their attention on the stag once more. A moment later they heard a birdcall in the near distance. At the signal, Elladan raised his bow, took aim and let loose his arrow. It flew straight and true into the animal's breast. The stag reared up and turned and attempted to dash away only to be met with another arrow in its flank. Its knees buckled and then the great beast collapsed, thrashing its legs feebly.

At that instant, the unimaginable occurred. One moment, Elladan was leaping to his feet, an elated cry issuing from his lips; the next moment, something large, hairy and obscenely black crashed through the brush and lunged at him. The older twin just barely managed to dodge the heaving mass of hideous legs and gnashing jaws. The monster went after him, its reeking mouth splayed, revealing a pair of formidable fangs.

"Elladan!" Elrohir was at his brother's side in an instant, sword drawn and hewing at the creature. The elven blade sliced easily through the thick leathery hide and a ghastly shriek emanated from the spider. Shuddering convulsively, it dragged itself a short distance then collapsed, leaving a viscous trail of foul-smelling chorea in its wake.

Hardly had the brethren managed to catch their breath when another spider emerged from the foliage. Followed by another. And then several more. The twins snapped into fighting stances, back-to-back, facing the new menace with grim determination.

But even as the first of the creatures, slightly smaller in size than the others, hurled itself at them, the brothers heard the twang of arrows and watched as several embedded themselves in the spider's body. However, the deaths of two of their fellows did not deter the others. They continued their onward march. In the twinkling of an eye, Wood-elves appeared out of the brush, knives and swords drawn. The twins had a moment to recognize Legolas in their midst before plunging into the fray themselves.

The stench was almost overpowering. It was no simple task trying to slay the spiders whilst trying not to gag from the smell of their hides and breath. Not even a Wood-elf of Eryn Galen could long endure such a stink.

Felling yet another spider, Elrohir glanced up to look for his brother. With relief, he saw Elladan rising to his feet after having slaughtered his foe. He turned to go to the older twin when something struck him from behind. He dropped hard to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. In the next instant, he felt sharp fangs sink deep into his left shoulder and he cried out from the shock and pain. The creature bore down on him and a burning, agonizing sensation spilled into his very flesh and blood. His head reeled as darkness threatened to take him but he fought it off furiously, refusing to become so much meat for the abomination that pinned him down mercilessly. He heard Legolas shouting something, the singing of knives as they sliced through the air and sickening thuds as they struck the creature above him.

He gulped down much needed air as the dead weight was rolled off him by the other Elves. But as he staggered to his feet, excruciating pain lanced through his left arm, from the slope of his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. He gasped, reeling, and was caught by Elladan and the Elven prince. They lowered him back down to the ground.

Elrohir drew in a ragged breath. The pain in his arm dissipated only to be replaced by a frightening numbness. His shoulder still throbbed abominably but his arm was an unfeeling appendage that hung uselessly at his side. And the lack of sensation was slowly spreading along his entire left side. He raised horrified eyes to Legolas, eyes swimming dizzily.

"I cannot feel anything!" he hissed. "What devilry is this, Legolas?"

"'Tis the spider's venom," the archer replied, drawing his knife and cutting through the twin's tunic and shirt at the shoulder. "They render their prey helpless by paralyzing them. Then they store their victims, alive and breathing, as fresh meat for their young."

Elladan sucked in his breath at the sight of the angry red wounds on his brother's flesh. A vile-looking amber-colored serum trickled down his pale skin from the deep punctures, mingling with Elrohir's blood.

Instinct took over and he set to work drawing out as much of the poison from Elrohir's veins as he could. Neither twin could claim their father's brilliance in the healing arts as yet; they were too young to have apprenticed for long after all. But they were still his sons and therefore bore the gift in their very blood. Time and experience would hone this inborn talent and there was every indication they would be as skillful as any healer in Imladris.

Legolas watched in fascination as Elladan deftly manipulated the torn flesh, his fingers teasing the venom out of the younger twin's body. The archer stared in admiration at Elrond's older son. How could an Elf still in his first century manage such a feat? He pondered the enigma that was Elrond Peredhil, his illustrious forebears and the legacy he would bequeath to his children.

"I am sorry, _mellyn nín_"—my friends—he apologized at length. "The great spiders have never come this far north before. We did not expect to encounter them."

"How long have these creatures been here?" Elrohir asked, wincing at a stab of pain as the lack of feeling slowly retreated under his brother's able fingers.

"No one knows for certain but 'tis believed they came here from Nan Dungortheb during the Elder Days."

"Ungoliant's foul descendants," Elladan muttered tightly. "Would that they had perished when Beleriand was destroyed."

Legolas shook his head. "It seems they fled those lands before the Great Battle and took refuge in the east," he said. "But my people forced them out of the northern reaches of this forest in ages past and have kept them at bay all these millennia. 'Tis curious and troubling that they dared to venture so close to our realm. All the spider colonies lie further south."

"Mayhap these were driven here by their fellows and were attempting to establish a new colony," Elrohir mused, temporarily distracted from his discomfort by the subject at hand.

"Mayhap," Legolas conceded. "But we will have to search out any survivors and destroy them. We cannot allow them to breed this close to our home."

Elladan stopped his ministrations, exhausted and a little defeated. "'Tis all I can do. I have not the skill for more," he exhaled. "I am sorry, _gwanneth._"—younger twin.

"Nay, _muindor_"—brother—Elrohir replied. "You have done me much good." He managed to flex his left hand. "There is some feeling in my arm again. And the numbness has ceased in my legs."

Elladan managed to smile slightly. "I am glad," he said. "But, come, we must get you back to trained healers." Together, he and Legolas hoisted Elrohir to his feet.

"Can you walk?" Legolas queried.

"I shall manage," Elrohir said stoutly. "Here, Elladan, give me your arm."

Legolas swiftly offered to support the darkling Elf on the other side. As they slowly made their way back, he kept glancing at the brethren with amazement. He was still awe-struck by Elladan's healing skills at such a tender age. And he was stunned by the younger twin's fortitude and strength of will. Other Elves had been known to quickly succumb to lesser spider-inflicted wounds but Elrohir had staved off unconsciousness despite the severity of his injury and the amount of venom in his system.

He eyed the Rivendell twins with greater respect.

oOoOoOo

It was perfectly understandable that many an Elf thought the twins' mishap would bring some respite to Thranduil's beleaguered household. With Elrohir confined to the healing rooms and Elladan reluctant to leave his side, it was even forgivable to believe that peace would reign for the duration of the Elf-knight's recovery.

Everyone should have known better.

Barely two days into his confinement, Elrohir was bristling at his enforced bed rest and demanding he be released. Elrond, knowing the younger twin all too well, sagely advised the Elvenking's healers to heed his son's demand. But they indignantly refused. Spider venom was no laughing matter, they gravely pointed out. Elrohir was still suffering from its toxic effects as evinced by his pallor and bouts of weakness. Judging that it would be better to let matters run their course, Elrond graciously acquiesced. As he told Celebrían in private, let them learn the hard way what crossing their son could entail.

The Elf-knight's scowl when he learned of the healers' decision was enough to send even the most imperturbable of them hastening out of his room. Refusing to bow to their dictates, he then promptly inveigled his brother into bringing entertainment to him if he would not be permitted to go to it. Elladan did not need much convincing and humored his brother with alarming alacrity.

A day and a half later, the healers hastily and unequivocally decided the younger twin was well enough to leave their care. Their sudden change of heart was not too difficult to fathom as Thranduil soon discovered.

He and Elrond were in his study, just beginning a discussion on the finer points of the proposed alliance, when their conversation was interrupted by his head healer. The Elf pleaded most ardently for an immediate audience. Thranduil acceded to the request and spent several minutes listening to the reason for the healer's obvious distress. Elrond watched in bemusement as the Elvenking's expression underwent a startling transformation.

After the healer departed, the king turned back to the Elvenlord, his face a picture of shock and disbelief. He began to pace the room distractedly. Elrond remained seated, awaiting enlightenment.

"They have decided to release your son," Thranduil suddenly announced.

In an instant, Elrond comprehended what was bothering the golden-haired Elf. He had already been apprised of the situation by his well-informed wife just before his meeting with the king. His lips twitched suspiciously. "Indeed," was all he said, however.

"It seems he convinced them of the wisdom of letting him go soonest."

Elrond pursed his lips, manfully stifling the smile that was aching to break out.

"May I inquire as to exactly how he convinced them?" he murmured and prepared himself for the inevitable explosion.

Thranduil's calm collapsed abruptly. "Maidens and minstrels cavorting in the healing rooms!" he exclaimed incredulously. "And ale, wine and miruvor dispensed to all and sundry like water! Your sons had a third of the patients and apprentice healers giggling like fools, another third sunk in drunken stupors and the rest sneaking into empty chambers for romantic trysts! Elbereth! Do they never run out of ideas to plague all of Arda!"

Elrond sighed with been-there, done-that equanimity. "I understand 'twas Legolas who brought in the minstrels," he smiled wanly. Thranduil stopped his pacing to stare at him in surprise. "It seems he also chose the songs they performed; rather bawdy ones, I believe."

Realizing Elrond was already cognizant of what had occurred, Thranduil groaned, kingly veneer breaking down under the strain. "If only for your ability to survive in the face of your sons' capacity for mayhem, I must salute you, Peredhel!" he growled. "Thank the Powers Legolas has no twin. I cannot imagine having to deal with two of him _and_ your sons as well!"

Elrond chuckled. "You would have my deepest sympathy had I not already lived through more than ninety years of mischief multiplied by two. I assure you, this is but a morsel of what Celebrían and I endure nearly every day."

Thranduil almost groaned again, caught himself, then broke into another exasperated tirade. "Do you know what else they did?" he demanded. "They took it upon themselves to introduce Legolas to the pleasures of the flesh! Right in the healing chambers!" He glared at Elrond. "Where did they think they were? In a brothel!"

Elrond's eyebrows lifted at that. "Did they now?" he mused. "I wonder which _elleth_"—Elf-maid—"they selected for that honor. No doubt she counts herself most fortunate to have been in the right place at the right time."

Momentarily distracted, Thranduil stared at him. "Honor?" he echoed. "Most fortunate?"

"Aye, Thranduil," Elrond smiled. "To bed an Elf as comely as your youngest son would be considered a stroke of utmost luck. To be the first to do so would be accounted the greatest privilege."

The Elvenking regarded him with something close to amazement. "You really _are_ used to this," he commented on a calmer note.

Elrond leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine. "My sons are as voracious as they are precocious," he admitted. "Do not ask me where they came by this hot-bloodedness of theirs. I certainly was not that profligate in _my_ youth."

Thranduil stared at him a few minutes longer. Then, unexpectedly, he began to snicker then chuckle and then guffaw until, finally, he was laughing so hard, he had to hold his sides to keep them from hurting overmuch. Elrond stared back at him in surprise.

"I am glad to have amused you," he remarked. "But, pray tell, what did I say that you find so humorous?"

Thranduil shook his head, struggling to bring his mirth under control. "Ai, 'tis only that I imagined my father's reaction had he been here to witness the twins' questionable abilities. He'd have promptly sailed West even if it meant putting up with all the Noldor of Valinor."

Elrond's eyes gleamed with amusement at the image painted by the king. Remembering Oropher's haughty countenance with its perpetual sneer ever reserved for all the Noldor, he could not help deriving great pleasure from picturing the testy Elf discomfited to distraction. He chuckled heartily, turning the image over in his mind with relish.

"I am heartened to see that you have recovered from his loss," Elrond remarked after a while. "I hope you no longer think all the Noldor responsible for it."

Thranduil sobered, the merriment fading swiftly from his face. He shook his head and sighed. "You and your family have done much to convince me that not all the Gelydh are kinslayers at heart. But I will always hold Gil-galad culpable for that tragedy," he added. "My father's rashness and folly brought him to his ruin but our people were merely following orders as was their duty. They should not have had to pay for their loyalty with their lives. Your High King failed to consider their welfare when he vented his ire on my father."

Elrond hesitated then nodded. "I agree," he quietly conceded. At Thranduil's surprised reaction, he continued, "Gil-galad let his pride and anger rule him and in doing so contributed to the deaths of innocent Elves. I cannot allow my loyalty to blind me to that fact particularly since I know that his anger towards Oropher began much earlier. Your father's foolhardy charge was not the main reason for the King's rancor; it was merely the final straw so to speak."

Thranduil stared at him wonderingly but when Elrond declined to elaborate further, he decided to let it go for the time being.

"Then we are in accord on this matter," he said instead. "You surprise me, Elrond; you and yours. My father was wrong about you. I regret I let his prejudices influence me against you."

Elrond smiled, cheered by the Elvenking's words. "You surprise me as well," he countered. "Despite your aversion to my kin, you still sought to mend the rift between our peoples. Few would bend so far if it meant curbing their pride. You are far wiser than your sire ever was, Thranduil, and I say this meaning no offense to his name."

Thranduil dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment. After a thoughtful pause, he said: "Elrond? Would you indulge my curiosity?" At the Elf-lord's encouraging gesture, he pressed on. "About you and the High King – were you and Gil-galad...?" He trailed off delicately.

Elrond groaned out loud. "By Elbereth, if I ever catch him, I will skewer the Elf who fed you that tale, roast him alive and feed him to the Wargs!" he exclaimed. "For the last time, nay, I was not the High-king's lover! The closest I ever got to his bed was the time Círdan and I had to tuck him in after a particularly liquid feast in Lindon."

Thranduil stared at him. "Gil-galad passed out from too much drink?" he gasped disbelievingly.

"He never could hold his liquor very well," Elrond said reminiscently. "And dwarven ale was never meant for elven consumption. At least, not in such copious quantities as he imbibed that night."

Thranduil began to shake with renewed laughter. "Valar, that is a surprise," he chuckled. "But if you were not his lover, who was? I confess I believed the tale because he'd named you his herald."

Elrond suddenly grimaced with melancholy, an expression so at odds with his earlier demeanor, the king was taken aback.

"Actually, he had several lovers of both kind," the Elvenlord replied. "But I recall one particular Elf he favored so greatly that the departure of this Elf from Lindon caused quite an upheaval in court the likes of which I have yet to witness again."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows in obvious interest. "Indeed. And who was this esteemed Elf?"

"He was born in Lindon after the Great Battle," Elrond said, "had golden hair, was of noble lineage being a kinsman of Thingol of Doriath and lived with his father south of the Lhûn. Can you remember the only Elf residing in Lindon at the time who fit that description?"

At first, the Elvenking looked at him in perplexity. And then his eyes widened incredulously as comprehension came upon him.

"You don't mean—?"

Elrond nodded in gentle affirmation. Thranduil sank down into the chair opposite him, mouth gaping in uncharacteristic gracelessness.

"Sweet Eru, no wonder my father was so eager for us to leave Lindon with Celeborn when he and Galadriel decided to move east," he muttered. "Elbereth, I never would have guessed!" He glanced at Elrond. "That's what you meant earlier," he said. "The main reason for Gil-galad's rancor towards my father."

"And for your father's hostility towards him," Elrond agreed. "A matter of conflicting interests, you might say. Unfortunately, it also deepened your father's distrust of the Noldor," Elrond added. "We weren't just kinslayers in his eyes; he saw us as corruptors of youth because of Gil-galad's attraction to you."

Thranduil snorted. "That was absurd of him. I was no Elfling and knew my own mind even then."

"Nevertheless, he must have feared you would be seduced by Gil-galad's position if not by the king himself." Elrond frowned in remembrance of that distant past. "After you left, Gil-galad had a succession of lovers but he always had a soft spot for you. You were the argument Círdan and I used to persuade him to send help to your father despite his premature attack on Mordor." He smiled sadly as Thranduil's eyes flickered in shock. "Though his passion for you had long passed, he did not want to see you harmed."

Thranduil shook his head in amazement. "Who would have thought it?" he murmured. "Did he know of my rage against him before he...?" He paused, recalling the High King's fiery end.

Elrond shook his head. "Círdan and I took care to keep your reaction from him," he said kindly. "We did not want further distractions to cloud his judgment. We led him to believe that you were merely overwhelmed by grief."

Thranduil let out a pensive breath. "Strange as it may sound, I am glad that you did," he admitted. "Whatever his role in the deaths of my father and people, I would not have had him bear my hatred unto his death. We all suffered enough as it was." He shook his head regretfully. "My father should not have hidden this from me. Events may have turned out differently had there been trust and goodwill between us rather than anger and animosity. And had I known the truth, I think I would have accepted Gil-galad's friendship though not his love. Even had he survived the battle on Orodruin that would not have been possible. You know of my people's choice in this matter."

"Aye, I am well aware of the path you had to take," Elrond said. "I even understand the reasons behind that decision. But I do question the wisdom of sustaining this prohibition indefinitely. Not even we can excise from our beings something we are born with."

Thranduil smiled slightly. "Time will take care of that matter," he pointed out. "Time and, possibly, this alliance of ours." He pursed his lips musingly. "This has been a most interesting afternoon. I wonder what Ithilwen will make of this last revelation."

Elrond's suddenly grinned, melancholy quickly forgotten. "She will most likely think you even more desirable for having drawn the High King's affections," he suggested archly. "In which case, shall Celebrían and I assume that you will be too busy to attend to us tomorrow?" he asked with spurious innocence.

Thranduil blushed a nice shade of crimson. He glared at Elrond. But his lips twitched. The Elf-lord's grin was infectious to say the least. The blue eyes narrowed with the king's effort to keep his feelings in check. With purposeful crudeness, Elrond suggestively licked the rim of his goblet. That did it.

The proud Elvenking threw regal dignity to the wind once more and dissolved into raucous laughter in which the Lord of Rivendell ably joined him. When they finally emerged from the study, both were red from their mirthful exertions. But something more than hilarity had been enjoined. By the evening meal, the alliance between the woodland kingdom of Eryn Galen and the elven-realm of Imladris was duly and most amiably sealed with a chuckle or two thrown in for good measure.

Glossary:  
Elder days - the First Age  
Ungoliant - the giant spider that caused the deaths of the Two Trees of Valinor  
Beleriand - northeastern region of Middle-earth in the First Age that sank beneath Belegaer after the Great Battle  
Great Battle - the battle between the host of Valinor and the forces of Morgoth in the First Age  
Peredhel (sing.) – Half-elf/Half-elven  
Gelydh (pl.) – 'Deep Elves', Sindarin name for the Noldor

_To be continued_…


	5. Meldir: At First Sight 5

_**Meldir: At First Sight**_   
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
To Elrohir's disappointment, the search for the remaining spiders that had migrated into the Wood-elves' territory took place a few days hence. He was perforce obliged to be content with his brother and Legolas' recounting of the hunt much to his displeasure for so rousing were their tales that he truly rued not having a part in them. But even he had to own himself unready for such an arduous undertaking while his body still contended with the spider's potent venom.

He listened with interest and increasing amusement as Elladan waxed fulsomely about Legolas' abilities on the field.

"You should have seen him, _gwanneth!_"—younger twin!—the older twin enthused. "Three spiders converging on his position and what does he do? Blinds one with his knife, riddles another with arrows and skewers the last with his sword! I swear I have never seen the like!"

Legolas' reddened cheeks, brought on by Elladan's praise, turned even more crimson under Elrohir's fond regard. The Elf-knight's eyes sparkled with warmth and admiration.

"You make too much of me," the prince protested. "I did not have much of a choice. It was either fight or end up in those monsters' bellies. I had no desire to provide a meal for them!"

"I doubt you need fear that," Elrohir said. "You have proven your mettle in battle to have roused Elladan's enthusiasm so. You will do your family proud yet, Calenlass."

Legolas started in surprise. "Green Leaf?" he echoed

"'Tis but another rendering of your name," Elrohir said.

The prince stared at him. Then he suddenly broke into a brilliant smile. He liked the name. And it pleased him greatly that the younger twin should count him close enough to bestow it upon him. Elrohir smiled back, seeing his friend's pleasure.

Neither noticed Elladan's uplifted eyebrows. Only after Legolas had left their chamber did Elrohir take note of his twin's expression.

"What?" he asked.

Elladan narrowed his eyes curiously. "A pet name, Elrohir?" he remarked. "So soon?"

Elrohir shrugged. "I like him well. We both do," he answered. "I would have him our good friend and not just a passing acquaintance." He looked pointedly at his brother. "Don't you?"

"Of course, I do," Elladan said. "But you are not given to making such precipitate decisions, _tôr neth_."—young brother.

"Meaning I am slow to choose my friends," the younger twin said. "And I will continue to be so, Elladan, but Legolas is different. He hides nothing from us and therefore we already know he is more than worthy of our trust and regard. There is no need for caution in his case."

Elladan nodded slowly. "You have a point," he conceded. "I must own myself amazed at his openness with us. 'Tis surprising."

"Mayhap he senses as we do that our friendship is meant to be."

"Mayhap." Of a sudden, Elladan grinned impishly. "Have you given thought to my plan for the farewell dinner?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly. "'Tis but little more than a week from now and we will need time to do it if you agree with me."

Elrohir grinned back. "I have given thought to it and think it a most excellent idea, _gwanur_—brother/kinsman. But we will need to keep it secret if 'tis to be successful."

Elladan chuckled. "I am sure a certain prince of Greenwood will help us in this and not breathe a word of it to any."

Elrohir started to snicker then frowned slightly. "But _Naneth?_"— Mother?—"Think you she will forgive us? She put in much time and effort after all."

The older twin airily waved away his brother's concern. "She will be upset at first," he agreed. "But not for long. She never is. And besides, she trusts our taste."

Elrohir relaxed. "I imagine our hosts will be well pleased," he said.

"More than pleased, _tôren_"—my brother—Elladan amended. "Flattered would be nearer the mark. So, are we to do this?"

Elrohir laughed softly. "You had best call Legolas back in here then," he suggested. "We do not have much time."

Elladan nodded in merry acquiescence and went off in search of their friend.

oOoOoOo

"You want my father to do WHAT!" Mithrael exclaimed. "Are you insane?"

"I am in full possession of my faculties," Legolas calmly replied. "Come now, _mellon_"—friend—"'tis but a small favor I am asking of you."

"Small?" the scholarly Elf sputtered. "Lady Celebrían will flay me alive if she ever finds out about my part in this."

"Ah, then you are agreed to have a part in this," Legolas grinned.

Mithrael groaned. "Legolas, why me? Why my _adar_?"—father.

"Because I have already assured the _gwenyn_"—twins—"as to your father's skill and that he has taken care of my family's needs since I can remember. And you, being the apple of your parents' eyes, are the perfect Elf to get him to do this."

Mithrael stalled desperately. He knew that eventually Legolas would wear his resistance down. So had the prince done since their infancies. "I do not wish to earn Lord Elrond's ire," he protested.

"And how will he find out about you?" Legolas pointed out. "If you keep your silence, none will be the wiser as to the part you played in this."

"That's what you said when you convinced us to help you infest the ladies' public bath with mice!" Mithrael retorted. "And look what happened."

"That's because Sirgon lost his nerve and did not guard his tongue well enough," Legolas pointed out. "Otherwise, no one would have known 'twas us who set the rodents free in the bathing chambers."

Mithrael rolled his eyes. "_Ada_"—Papa—"will never countenance this!"

"He will if you tell him 'tis for the greater good."

"The greater good!"

"Aye, tell him 'tis for diplomacy's sake."

Mithrael was incredulous. "With the twins involved?" he choked. "He will never believe me."

Legolas shrugged. "I am sure your ingenuity is more than equal to the task of thinking up a reasonable excuse."

His friend was about to come up with another protest when his eyes suddenly turned thoughtful.

"Not the twins," he said musingly. "_Ada_ will never swallow that. But perhaps Lord Glorfindel and Master Erestor..." He pursed his lips distractedly. "They _are_ diplomats after all."

Legolas chuckled, knowing his victory was all but ensured once he got his friend thinking on the matter. "And what will you say when he asks why they did not come to him personally?"

Mithrael frowned. "Their schedule is rather hectic this week," he said. "I can say you told them of his skill and they then asked me to run this errand for them."

Legolas clapped a hand on the other Elf's shoulder. "I knew I could count on you, _meldir_"—friend—he grinned.

Mithrael seemed to come back to himself with a start. He groaned once more as he realized what he had committed himself to.

"Ai, Legolas, you will be the death of your friends yet!" he growled. "Your long-suffering friends I might add!"

The prince laughed merrily. "But you must admit you have never been bored while in my company!"

"And even less so with the twins around," Mithrael added. "Indeed, I scarcely remember a day of calm since their arrival." He regarded Legolas curiously as the prince snickered in agreement. "You truly like them, don't you?" he remarked. "I have never seen you so alive in all our years of comradeship."

Legolas nodded smilingly. "In their company, I _am_ alive," he admitted. "They bestir something in me that even my own brothers are not capable of."

"Or your childhood friends."

Legolas stared at Mithrael in dismay. "I did not mean to belittle your worth to me, Mithrael!" he said. "You and Sirgon and Heledir are dear to me and always will be."

Mithrael shook his head. "I was not chiding you, _ernilen_"—my prince—he said. "I can guess at the reason for the brethren's effect on you. They are like you in so many ways; indeed, they are your equals. And so with them, you can be yourself, just another Elf of Eryn Galen. In this I am happy for you, Legolas, for I have seen how ill-at-ease you are playing your princely role though you carry it off so well few have marked it."

Legolas looked at him with warm gratitude. "And you are one of the few. You are truly a scholar, Mithrael," he murmured. "Thank you for understanding."

His friend smiled. "Think nothing of it," he replied. And then the apprehension came back into his features. "Are you certain you want to go through with this?" he asked, half hoping the prince would reconsider.

Legolas laughed out loud. The ponderous mood had passed.

"Aye, _mellonen_"—my friend—"I most definitely do," he chuckled. "Now, make certain of your father's complicity in this. He must hold his peace or the surprise will be ruined."

For the third time, Mithrael groaned.

oOoOoOo

Hardly had Mithrael started on his mission when Legolas commenced one of his own. The following morning, he and the twins rode out with nary a word to anyone as to either their destination or purpose. All the sentries were able to impart to their exasperated king was that they had headed in an easterly direction.

Thus, when they failed to reappear in the next three days, it was perfectly understandable that their sires and dams thought the worst had befallen them. Thranduil was just about to mount a massive search for them when, on the morning of the fourth day, all three princes suddenly returned. They looked well and rather self-satisfied. And all three were just this side of tipsy.

The Elvenking promptly ordered them into his study where assiduous questioning elicited the information that, at the twins' behest, they had paid a visit to the human city of Esgaroth to the east. The discovery provided great relief for Thranduil and Ithilwen. The denizens of Esgaroth traded regularly with the folk of the Woodland Realm. They were quite used to seeing Elves in their midst though probably none as fair as the three lordlings who had so recently partaken of their hospitality.

After ascertaining that none of their sons were suffering from anything more life-threatening than the noxious effects of dwarven ale, Ithilwen and Celebrían finally withdrew from the study. The three youths, however, remained were they were, sprawled upon the long couch beneath the tall windows of the chamber. Under their respective fathers' jaundiced eyes.

Neither Thranduil nor Elrond were all that sanguine about the supposedly innocent nature of their sons' expedition into human territory. As such, they insisted that the three remain in the study while they proceeded with their meeting with Glorfindel and Erestor. Just in case.

Their suspicions soon proved justified as evinced by the murmured conversation that took place, or rather unraveled, behind them. While far from inebriated, the young Elves had imbibed enough to render their tongues looser than usual.

"So, how did you find them, Legolas?" Elladan asked with a marked drawl.

"They are gamesome enough," Legolas replied. "But they do not seem to comprehend the concept of taking one's time."

Elrohir chuckled. "Mortals don't have as much time to take as Elves do," he pointed out. "Though I dare say part of their haste had much to do with your appearance."

"My appearance? What do you mean?"

"They likely feared you would disappear before they could get more than a taste of your considerable charms," Elladan teased.

Legolas was not the only one to turn bright red. Thranduil was also seen to flush quite deeply while Elrond choked at this display of his sons' all too lubricious humor. Their discomfiture had Glorfindel and Erestor wondering if they should tactfully take their leave.

"Still, there is nothing like an Elf-maid to satisfy one's needs," Elrohir sagely remarked.

"Aye, their endurance is such that they can last the whole night if necessary," Elladan agreed. "Mortal women tire after a while, I fear."

"Yet they do have their merits," Legolas suddenly quipped, "if the wench who kept me company last night was any indication of their abilities."

This time, it was Thranduil who choked. Elrond, on the other hand, trained a look on his counsellors that warned them not to breathe a single word of the disreputable exchange to anyone. Both Elves solemnly nodded their acquiescence.

"Ai, you are learning!" Elrohir chortled.

Legolas grinned. "Well, 'twas you who taught me so well, _mellyn_"— friends—he said. "You have my eternal gratitude."

Elladan snickered. "You haven't learned the half of it yet, _cunneth_"—princeling—he cooed.

His twin concurred. "There is so much more out there for you to sink your teeth into."

The double entendre was not lost on his brother or friend and both burst out in appreciative laughter. Their sires, however, were not so amused.

"'Tis a pity your people have chosen to limit their horizons," Elrohir commented. "They do not know what they are missing."

Legolas looked at him curiously. "In what manner have we limited ourselves? What are we missing?"

"The ancient path," Elladan answered carelessly.

Elvenking and Elvenlord froze in the same instant.

"The _what_ path?" Legolas innocently inquired.

"_Pin nith_"—young ones—Elrond suddenly intoned, fastening a quelling glare on his too voluble sons. "I suggest you sleep off that foul brew you consumed."

Uttered in just that tone, his disarmingly mild reproof had a most electrifying effect on the brethren. Casting guilty looks at each other, the twins swiftly rose to their feet, pulling Legolas along with them, and hastily complied with their father's wish.

As the door closed behind them, Elrond sat back and rubbed his suddenly throbbing temple.

"That was too close," Erestor murmured.

Thranduil nodded and sighed. "Thank you, Elrond," he said.

The Elf-lord looked up and wanly smiled. "Your son will discover the truth eventually," he reminded the king. "Particularly if he continues to keep company with mine."

"I am well aware of that," Thranduil agreed. "But I'd rather he finds out later than sooner. He is still so very young."

"He is hardly an innocent any longer," Glorfindel softly pointed out.

The Elvenking nodded. "Thanks in large part to the twins," he said. "I suppose I should be grateful that he came under their able tutelage." He waited for the rueful chuckles to die down. "But to tell him of the ancient path is a task I would rather put off for now. The knowledge would completely upend everything he knows about our race. I would prefer that he be a little more prepared for such a revelation than he is at present."

"That is understandable," Elrond said. "Forgive my sons for their indiscretion. 'Twas not intentional."

"I know. Too much drink will oft lead to loose talk. Thankfully, it can also cloud memory. I doubt Legolas will remember what they said."

"Nonetheless, I shall have a word with them," Glorfindel decided. He glanced at Elrond for permission. "We cannot afford more mistakes of this nature."

Elrond had to smile. If there was one Elf other than himself to whom the twins earnestly hearkened, it was Rivendell's golden captain. But after all, one did not lightly cross a being who had battled a Balrog to the death and lived a second life to talk about it.

Thranduil shook his head of a sudden, a grin tugging at his otherwise stern mouth. "There has not been so much excitement in my halls since we marched to Mordor in the last age," he said. "I wonder if this alliance is really all that necessary. Should the Dark Lord rise once more, we could simply send your sons to Mordor. I wager he would quit Middle-earth soonest than endure the twins' company for eternity!"

Mercifully, the king proved right and Legolas did not recall the twins' alarming slip of the tongue. And, amazingly, the remaining days before the departure of the Rivendell party passed without incident. That is, incidents of any magnitude. Whether this was due to the influence of Rivendell's resident Balrog slayer, the brethren's own sense of culpability at nearly letting the cat out of the proverbial bag, or a combination of both, did not matter in the least. The residents of the royal halls were of one accord. This was a most welcome respite and they all took advantage of it to catch their collective breaths.

_To be continued_…


	6. Meldir: At First Sight 6

_**Meldir: At First Sight**_   
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI  
The day before the departure of Elrond's entourage opened with a glorious sunrise. But three young Elves were unusually subdued despite the day's bright promise. Neither Elladan, Elrohir nor Legolas paid much attention to the fine weather, the preparations for the night's festivities or the flirtations that by now had reached a frantic crescendo as the twins' imminent departure drew closer. None of the three had much heart for merry-making when the morrow portended something none of them desired. Such was the friendship that now bound them together.

Nevertheless, their naturally ebullient spirits could not be kept down for long and as the day passed, they found the energy and enthusiasm to pull off a flurry of last-minute pranks. Targeting in particular Elves they had reason to dislike, their schemes signaled the end of the respite Thranduil's household had enjoyed for the briefest time. Not a few hapless Elves began to count the hours and minutes until they should be granted a more lasting peace.

Late in the afternoon, the twins finally retreated to their chamber to prepare for the farewell feast much to the relief of their various victims, both past and intended. Within the sanctum of their room, raven tresses were formally bound and plaited whilst a pair of lissome torsos and well-shaped limbs waited to be poured into near-gossamer under-tunics, thick but finely woven hose and light, ankle-high shoes, all in scrumptious shades of silver and grey.

Elladan glanced at his brother as the latter finished braiding his hair, a speculative gleam in his slate blue eyes.

"Well, what have you to say of our stay here?" he queried.

Elrohir smiled. "It has been a most interesting visit," he replied. "I look forward to many more in the years to come."

"And Legolas? What have you to say about our friend?"

The younger twin looked at him in surprise. "He is quick-witted, warm-hearted and valiant of spirit," he enumerated. At Elladan's unsatisfied expression, he asked in perplexity, "What else would you have me say?"

"That he is comely besides."

"Aye, he is," Elrohir agreed. "Indeed, he will be beautiful when he attains his full growth."

"Ah, so you have noticed," Elladan now grinned.

Elrohir regarded his brother curiously. "One can hardly ignore such fairness," he said. "What is your point, _gwaniuar?_"—older twin?—"Are you thinking of pursuing him?"

"Nay, but I thought you would," Elladan rejoined.

Elrohir blinked in surprise. "Why?" he asked. "What led you to believe me interested?"

"Your unusual regard for him," the older twin explained. "'Tis not your habit to be enamored of anyone before you have known them long. I thought you were perhaps drawn to him in more ways than one."

Elrohir snorted. "That is absolutely out of the question, Elladan," he protested. "He is our friend. Besides, even were I inclined to woo him, which I am not, mind you, we have been cautioned against approaching the _ellyn_"—male Elves—"of this kingdom. And have you forgotten Glorfindel's scolding already?"

Elladan chuckled. "Nay, I have not forgotten. But you can be quite tenacious when you desire something. I would not put it past you to flout tradition or good sense to attain what you want. I am not insisting that you will indeed go after him," he added when Elrohir started to protest. "I am only reminding you of your wont."

The younger twin shook his head. "Be that as it may, I am not about to undo this alliance _Adar_"—Father—"has secured so ardently just to slake my lust for an Elf even if he be a prince. Not that I do lust for him," the Elf-knight hastily added at the renewed gleam in his twin's wickedly sparkling eyes.

Elladan guffawed at his brother's discomfiture. "Calm down, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—he snickered. "I was only teasing you."

"I should hope so!" Elrohir retorted. "You will land us both in trouble with your imprudent talk."

"Since when did you care?"

"Since now." The younger twin turned serious. "For all our pleasure in this visit, that was never the main reason for our coming here. Adar is right. This alliance is of the utmost importance though we do not feel the need for it just yet."

Elladan looked at his brother wonderingly. "You are introspective this day, Elrohir," he commented.

"I only ponder the courage of Thranduil's people," Elrohir countered. "Imagine what it must be like for these folk to have lived here all these ages without certitude of life and limb." He shook his head in admiration. "Imladris is sheltered in comparison with Vilya to protect it."

"Aye, that is true," Elladan had to agree. He smiled and clapped a hand on his twin's shoulder. "Forget my jesting, Elrohir. As you said, Legolas is our friend and 'twas discourteous of me to have bandied his name in such a loose manner. Elbereth forbid he ever finds out what I said!"

"Do not worry," Elrohir grinned. "My lips are sealed."

A knock on the door cut their conversation short. A moment later, the subject of their discussion walked in followed by a nervous Mithrael. The latter carried in his arms two robes of sumptuous fabric and outstanding embroidery. Legolas lifted one and held it up for the twins' inspection.

"I trust 'tis what you wanted?" he grinned.

The brethren grinned back.

"'Tis perfect," Elrohir replied.

oOoOoOo

The farewell feast was a sharp contrast to the first night dinner that welcomed the Rivendell party to Greenwood; for this evening's festivities, strict formality was observed and every Elf present, man or woman, was arrayed accordingly. Not unexpectedly, the Rivendell Elves stood out distinctly due to their heavier, floor-length robes. Therefore, it was quite a jolt for everyone when the twins made their appearance with Legolas preceding them. Even Celebrian who had personally prepared their wardrobe was taken by surprise when she laid eyes on her sons and the prince.

Legolas was stunning, garbed as he was in aquamarine and gold. But even more than just mere physical beauty, there was an air about him that made him look, well, different. There was a sensuality to his natural grace that had not been there previously. His own parents and brothers had to take a second look to confirm that it was indeed he.

"Are my eyes deceiving me or has he suddenly grown...alluring?" Ithilwen whispered to her lord and husband.

"He has grown alluring," Thranduil assured her.

"But how? When?" the queen murmured in puzzlement. "It seems like only yesterday that he was so innocent."

"I warrant it has to do with being in company with Elrond's sons," the king replied wryly, reminded that he had kept some of the twins' exploits from his wife's knowledge. "The incident in the healing rooms was but the beginning."

"The beginning?" Ithilwen stared at him. "But who—? Where—?"

"Later, _meleth_."—love—"'Tis not a topic to be spoken of in polite circles."

As the three princes, made their way into the great hall, a discernable murmur of excitement arose as much brought on by the twins as by the Elvenking's youngest son.

Both wore the rich emerald and silver ensembles their mother had meticulously selected. But the robes, the long, sweeping robes with their intricate embroidery and exquisite textures, had been altered into the fashion of the Sindar and Silvan Elves. A master tailor had skillfully shortened the original garments and opened and restyled the fronts, revealing the almost sheer under-tunics and finely woven hose beneath. Not to mention the well-formed bodies and lean yet muscular limbs that bore them.

Celebrían dazedly clutched at her husband's arm. "I am unsure as to whether I should be appalled or delighted," she hissed. "They have undone nearly four months worth of work on those robes. I chose them so carefully, _hervenn!_"—husband!

Elrond sighed. "At least we know that the Wood-elves' fashions suit them," he offered consolingly.

About to make a caustic retort, Celebrían noticed the appreciative regard the Greenwood Elves were bestowing upon the twins. She exchanged a glance with Elrond. It was quite apparent their hosts had taken the brethren's gesture as a great compliment. That their appearance was eminently easy on the eyes certainly did no harm either.

"It seems our sons will leave quite a mark on Greenwood," Elrond murmured.

Glorfindel, who happened to be behind him, heard his comment and said humorously, "That is an egregious understatement. With all that was accomplished between them and Prince Legolas, I wager our hosts will heave a collective sigh of relief when we leave tomorrow."

"And count themselves fortunate that their halls are still standing," Erestor added with a shake of his head.

They noted Thranduil and Ithilwen making their way toward them. The Elvenking was seen to stifle a wry smile when he took note of their expressions.

"I gather you did not know of this either?" he remarked, glancing to where his son and the twins stood, surrounded by admirers of the female variety.

Elrond nodded in resignation. "'Tis as much a surprise to us, Thranduil," he admitted.

"More of a shock," Celebrían snipped. "I cannot believe—!" She broke off, unwilling to speak uncharitably of her sons in the presence of others.

Ithilwen wound a comforting arm around hers. "But it would seem this last endeavor of theirs will prove most beneficial to our needs," she cooed. "Whatever ill will they may have sown earlier has now all but disappeared. It bodes well for this alliance we have forged."

Celebrían had to smile at that. "I suppose there are all kinds of ways to practice diplomacy," she commented. She nodded in Legolas' direction. "And we have your youngest to thank for this state of affairs as well," she said. "In showing them naught but warmth and friendship, he has proven himself a most efficient politician."

Ithilwen shook her head. "Nay, Legolas did not do this for the sake of the alliance," she said. "He liked your sons at first sight, of that I am certain. I saw it in his eyes as soon as he set them upon the twins."

Thranduil agreed. "Indeed, he is loath to have them leave," he added. "I had to promise him that he could visit Imladris in turn just to lift his spirits these last few days."

Elrond smiled. "He will be more than welcome," he said. "For I believe my sons return his regard in equal measure. Theirs will be a far deeper alliance than that which now binds our realms, Thranduil."

The Elvenking nodded. "I am glad of it," he remarked. "Seldom have I seen Legolas so happy and at ease. I would have him enjoy such moments as frequently as circumstances allow."

"We would say the same for Elladan and Elrohir," Celebrían intoned. She looked mischievously at Elrond. "And _you_ wanted to leave them behind, _hervenn_," she teased. "What say you now of that idea?"

Elrond had the grace to look abashed. "I would say 'twas an idiotic notion," he conceded. "Thank the Powers I am wed to a most persuasive lady!"

After dinner, the three young princes took the chance to slip away from the crowd and enjoy the sweet night air in the gardens behind the pavilion. As they walked, they spoke of the two months just passed and mused on the future. In this, the brethren saw Legolas' countenance droop a little.

"What troubles you, Calenlass?" Elrohir asked gently.

The golden-haired prince shrugged listlessly. "I have so enjoyed these past months with you that I find I cannot look forward to tomorrow when you will depart." He looked shyly from Elrohir to Elladan. "It will be lonely without you, _mellynen_."—my friends.

The twins smiled tenderly at him. "Imladris will seem lacking as well though we call it home," Elladan told him. "We will miss you, _cunneth_."—princeling.

"Hopefully not for long," Legolas said. "_Ada_"—Papa—"promised me that I might visit you. That is if you will welcome me."

"If!" Elrohir exclaimed. "We would bring you home with us tomorrow were it permitted. Of course, we will welcome you, Legolas. You will always have a place in Imladris."

The prince flushed with pleasure. "I know 'tis not possible soonest," he said. "I have much to complete before I may absent myself from Eryn Galen for a long period of time. But I feel much better now knowing there is something to look forward to and that you feel about me as I do about you."

The twins chuckled in tandem.

"Hearken to your tutors, _ernil min_"—our prince—Elladan said.

"And do your utmost in all your endeavors, no matter how trivial they may seem," Elrohir continued. "When next we meet, your greater mastery will only add to our pleasure in each other's company."

The prince's azure eyes sparkled with happy anticipation. "Then I will do my best," he vowed. "I would have you proud of me."

"We already are," Elladan grinned. "You can only make us prouder."

Legolas beamed at the compliment. He glanced at Elrohir as the younger twin slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Now that that's out of the way, what say we make this last night more memorable?" he suggested with a wicked grin.

"In what way?" Legolas queried.

"I believe your father's counsellors are seeing us off tomorrow?" The prince nodded. "'Twill be dreary ritual and tradition then, I wager. Elladan and I have no liking for such pomp."

"What do you have in mind?" Elladan asked suspiciously.

Elrohir gave a conspiratorial wink. "What say we make it impossible for the most insufferable of the lot to show up tomorrow morn?"

He brought out a small phial, which he handed to Elladan. The older twin read the inscription on it then guffawed. "A few drops in their wine tonight will suffice," he chortled. "Oh, _gwanneth_, you are wicked!"

"What is that?" Legolas asked, not knowing whether to be elated or alarmed.

"A simple sleeping draught, Legolas," Elladan explained. "'Twill ensure they do not awaken in time to go through their paces when we leave."

"Just a sleeping draught?" Legolas looked from one twin to the other. "That seems rather tame for you. There is something you are not telling me, _gwenyn_."—twins.

Elrohir grinned at his brother. "He has learned his lessons well, _muindor_"—brother—he snickered. He tapped Legolas' shoulder reassuringly. "'Tis a sleeping draught which takes effect with remarkable swiftness. It will be interesting to see which of your father's esteemed counsellors will make it out of the hall before slumber overtakes them."

Legolas stared at him. Then he giggled. Then he burst out laughing. "Elladan is right," he gasped in between bouts of mirth. "You _are_ wicked!"

An hour later, Thranduil's servants were carting away several of the king's counsellors who snored away the night, oblivious of the spectacle they had made at the farewell dinner. No one knew for certain just how they all happened to collapse into slumber in concert. But not a few looked with trepidation at the twin brethren of Rivendell and the youngest prince of the Woodland Realm. For it seemed too much of a coincidence that the advisors so precipitately put to sleep were also known to be the ones most full of themselves.

The innocent seeming lordlings were not talking and so it remained a mystery to all. But when the morn arrived and not a one of the afflicted advisors showed up at the doors of the delved palace, they were seen to smile with satisfaction, making one and all ever more suspicious of their participation in if not their instigation of the incident.

"A success, I must say," Elladan grinned as he and Elrohir made their farewells to Legolas.

"Even more so since they cannot prove our complicity in it," Elrohir added with a chuckle.

Legolas laughed merrily. "I will write you often, _mellynen_," he said, "and pray the years will pass swiftly until I may go to your valley in turn."

"We will write you, too," Elrohir smiled. "And should you find that you cannot visit us as you desire, we will find the means to come back instead."

The prince's smile widened at the reassurance. "Farewell then," he said. "Until we meet again."

Each twin returned his warm embrace.

"Take care, _ernil min_," Elladan gently replied.

"May Elbereth's light always shine upon you, Calenlass," Elrohir softly intoned.

And then they were vaulting onto their steeds with steely grace and supple strength. They urged their horses forward to join their parents and the others. As might be expected, at the mouth of the tree-formed corridor, they turned and waved at the last to their golden friend.

But there was no hint of good-bye in their gesture. Rather, there was the promise of tomorrow in their grey eyes and knowing smiles. For as Master Elrond had so succinctly put it, an alliance of even greater depth had been forged between these sons of the Woodland Realm and the hidden vale. Would that Manwë and Varda and all the Powers smile upon it in the many years to come.

The End

**Part 2:** With Friends Like These. Rating: T


	7. With Friends Like These 1

**Author's Notes:** I posted this series on other sites part by part. But to make it easier to keep track of it on this site, I'm reposting everything under the series title _Greenleaf and Imladris_. My apologies for any confusion.

Regarding Arwen's age: at nine years she would actually be, in human terms, about four-years-old if one goes by the premise that an Elf reaches his or her majority at 50 years of age. As for the games mentioned in the story, you might consider them the elvish equivalents of Chess, Monopoly and Poker.

**Warning:** I first posted this series two years ago and it is currently archived in other sites. I hesitated to post it here due to its sexual content and orientation. Therefore, please heed this warning: This is slash fiction with a smattering of het and many parts carry an M rating. If that is not your cup of tea, cease and desist right now. Go no further. Otherwise, welcome aboard and I do hope you enjoy reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it

**Summary:** Legolas' first visit to Rivendell proves educational in more ways than one when he learns of the choice of the Peredhil then stumbles upon a tryst with an unexpected twist.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**With Friends Like These**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _Viressë_-_Yavannië_ T.A. 250  
Legolas felt his breath hitch when he caught the aromatic scents of pine and heather just as he came to the very brink of the ridge that descended abruptly into a vale alike to so many others and yet was not. Following the narrow path, he urged his horse down the steep slope, allowing the beast to gingerly pick its way along the loosely pebbled track. Behind him, his friends, Mithrael and Heledir, were heard to mutter curses as they, too, turned their steeds onto the seeming treacherous trail. The half dozen Elf-warriors in their wake quickly followed suit.

The Elven prince grinned. His friends had never yet left the bounds of Greenwood, not even to visit the human cities and settlements nearby. As such, they'd seldom had need to trek along such paths of dubious safety. That it had taken several weeks travel to get to their destination did little to improve their already low opinion of such distant journeying.

It was more than three weeks since they'd left Eryn Galen's borders behind. Nearly a week on horseback to reach the eastern base of the Misty Mountains, another week or so to get over the range and finally the last leg across the plains upon leaving the mountains behind. In truth, this part of the trip had taken the most time as they sought the secret paths that would lead them to their objective.

He heard Heledir grumble about the confounded inaccessibility of so fabled a destination. His grin broadened.

Yes, the way into the narrow valley did seem unreasonably difficult to access not to mention locate. But then, Rivendell had been founded as a refuge not a kingdom and no refuge worth its name would leave itself so open to the evils of the world without. He gently reminded his friend of this fact, educing sage agreement from scholarly Mithrael who nevertheless decried the inconvenience of such rigorous endeavors to inexperienced travelers such as himself.

On the verge of making a retort, Legolas suddenly stiffened before a beatific smile broke upon his sculpted lips. The faint strains of music, of fair elvish voices lifted in song, wafted up from the vale, beguiling and welcoming. And then he felt it: the awesome power that sheltered the haven. Vilya, the ring of Air, had found its long home in this valley, held by Elrond Half-elven to whom it had been bequeathed by Gil-galad, the last High King of the Noldor. Few knew that the Peredhel wielded this greatest of the elven-rings of power wrought by Celebrimbor. Indeed, that Legolas knew this at all was due to the trust put in him by Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir.

It was nigh sixteen years since the twins and their parents first journeyed to the Woodland Realm of Eryn Galen, the forest more commonly known as Greenwood the Great. Though long promised this chance to visit Rivendell in turn, the youngest son of King Thranduil had been unable to do so.

Held back by duty and responsibilities, he'd first had to complete his most basic training as prince, politician and warrior, a course the twins themselves had urged upon him just before they departed from the forest realm. Happily, they'd kept their word that they would return to the woodland kingdom should Legolas not be able to claim his promised reward soonest. Elladan and Elrohir made three visits to Eryn Galen in the years that followed and their great friendship with the Elf-prince had deepened accordingly. Now, it was his turn and he felt his heart race as they neared the bottom of the cleft.

The pine trees had long given way to oak and beech and a few scattered willows and it was warmer as well, pleasantly so. The singing was louder now as was the sound of fast running water. He had a moment to recall the stream that was a tributary of the Bruinen close to the Last Homely House that the twins had spoken of at their last meeting before the music abruptly stopped and his party was suddenly surrounded by warrior Elves bearing the colors of Imladris. Where they had come from he had no idea; they'd been as stealthy as his father's woodland rangers. Considering the sparser cover in this place, he had to admire their skill.

One of them stepped forward to address the Elf-prince; Legolas recognized him at once. It was Enedrion, the warrior who, with Glorfindel's second-in-command, Daurin, always accompanied the twins on their sojourns in the green wood.

"My lord," Enedrion intoned, bowing slightly before him. "We have been awaiting your arrival these many days."

Legolas smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "'Tis not so simple a matter to find the way here," he said. "We were delayed somewhat by a lack of certain direction."

"Meaning you got lost," a familiar voice commented.

Legolas glanced to his left, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. Without further ado, he swung off his horse, almost directly into Elrohir's welcoming embrace. A moment later, he was clasping hands with a grinning Elladan as well.

Exchanging jovial greetings, they near forgot the prince's companions until Elladan espied Legolas' two childhood friends who had dismounted as well.

"Mithrael! Heledir!" he cried and strode to them. "How fare you?"

Though rendered shy by the strangeness of their environs, both Elves hearkened to his warm manner and replied in kind. Elrohir further eased their diffidence as he kindly inquired as to their folk.

"But where is Sirgon?" he suddenly queried after a cursory look at the woodland warriors. "Why did he not come with you?"

"Alas, our friend is no longer of Eryn Galen," Legolas explained ruefully. "His mother pined for the Golden Wood and would have faded had Counsellor Beldoron not removed her and Sirgon to Lórien. They have been three years gone from Greenwood now."

"A pity," the younger twin remarked. "It must have been difficult for him, leaving all that he knows behind. Mayhap Elladan and I will be of comfort to him when next we visit our grandparents' realm."

"But enough melancholic talk," Elladan said, noting the others' sudden pensiveness. "Come, _Adar_ and _Naneth_"—Father and Mother—"await you. And Arwen as well."

"I have long desired to meet your infant sister," Legolas smiled.

"Not quite an infant any longer," Elladan chuckled. "She is a mettlesome creature for all her tender years. _Adar_ claims she is too alike to us in character and prays Imladris will withstand the attentions of yet another Peredhil child."

Chuckling, they walked the rest of the way to the Last Homely House east of the Sea.

oOoOoOo

Six weeks into his stay, Legolas found himself wishing that he did not have to return to Eryn Galen. At least, not within the foreseeable future. It wasn't that he desired to forsake his family; never that. But life in Rivendell was so different, so utterly enchanting, that he longed for his visit to go on indefinitely. Open spaces, warm breezes and heather carpeted hills beckoned each morning from his windows when he awakened, a far cry from the closed, sometimes stuffy feeling of Greenwood. Not that he couldn't endure the forest that was his home. He loved Eryn Galen with all his being and would willingly suffer for its continued well-being. It was simply that he appreciated the very differentness of Rivendell from his forest abode.

There were so many attractions that enthralled him both within and without the Last Homely House. The crystalline waterfall cascading down the sides of the sheer drop by the river; a perfect place for bathing, picnicking or napping. Evenings in the Hall of Fire, by turns merry with poetry, music and laughter, quiet with conversation and contemplation or tense with mind-sharpening games of Strategy, Realms and Enigma. Sprawling forests with wide paths and open grassy plains within easy reach that allowed for swift, exhilarating rides on horseback. Challenging bouts of archery, wrestling, swordplay or knife work in the wide exercise yard beside the house with nary a tree to hinder one's way. And most wondrous of all for an Elf who lived in the thick wood of Eryn Galen: the sun and moon dappling the entire valley with their light since no dense canopy shut out the former's golden radiance and the latter's silvery glow.

The refuge also had a character so unlike the Woodland Realm's primal personality. It was steeped in culture and learning, was as deliberate as Eryn Galen was mercurial. And nearly every Elven inhabitant was Noldorin; like Glorfindel, Rivendell's noble captain, these were amongst the last of the exiles who had returned to Middle-earth in the Elder days.

A few, such as Elrond himself, his lady wife and children, the haven's chief steward, Erestor, and some of the warriors and retainers, were either of mixed elven heritage or wholly sprung from the Sindar. But these were Sindar who had long resided in Lindon when Gil-galad still reigned or dwelt in Eregion under the lordship of Celebrimbor ere it was overrun by Sauron's hordes. They were far removed from the Grey-elven nobles of Greenwood's court. Only Thranduil himself could be deemed their equal in lore and nobility.

The other members of the household had also endeared themselves to the woodland prince with their kindness and care. Aside from Glorfindel and Erestor and Elrond's other counsellors, there was witty Lindir, housemaster, tutor and minstrel nonpareil; straightforward Iorwen, the Last Homely House's formidable mistress of the kitchen and store-rooms and maker of the most delicious pastries ever to grace an elvish feast; merry Gildor, the son of Inglor, who oft traveled about the northern lands with wandering companies of Elves, bringing news from without to the hidden vale; and beauteous Almáriel who had taken care of the twins in their infancies and was now nurse to little Arwen.

Arwen was a delight and a revelation. The tiny _elleth_—Elf-maid—now a precocious nine-year-old, had all the promise of the great beauty of Elrond's foremother, Luthien of Doriath, and all the spunk and spirit of her brothers. She was a veritable whirlwind despite her tender years, refusing to allow her age or size to hobble her in the pursuit of childish pleasure and adventure. No wonder Elrond questioned the ability of Rivendell to last the age.

These were, for the most part, the folk of Imladris though Legolas had been astounded to see, on one occasion, men walking the halls of the house and, on another, two dour Dwarves. The Dwarves, he soon learned, hailed from Khazad-dûm, the great dwarven realm beneath the Misty Mountains. Every so often a few of its citizens would come to Rivendell bearing precious wares of gold and mithril; Elrond did not shun trade with the Khazad.

The men, however, were _Edain_ from the North-kingdom of Arnor now ruled by Valandil, the only surviving son of Isildur who had paid the ultimate price for his ensnarement by the One Ring in the disaster of the Gladden Fields, taking his three older sons down into the darkness with him. Through the convoluted lines of Peredhil descent, the king was actually Elrond's distant kin, a nephew several times removed, one might say, through Elros, the loremaster's twin, who had loved a mortal woman and thus joined his heart and fate to hers many generations of men ago.

Dressed in attire fit for hard walking, Legolas finally left his chamber and headed for the main hall where he was to meet the twins and his friends. As he passed the many passages that branched off from the corridor, he espied a couple in the far end of one.

Peering idly at them, he realized who they were. He stifled a chuckle as he observed the Elf-warrior, Daurin, plying Arwen's nurse, a charmingly coquettish Almáriel, with freshly picked blossoms, honeyed words, and what looked to be a small basket of dainty cakes, no doubt courtesy of Iorwen's skillful hands. So, he grinned, Glorfindel's lieutenant was a-courting. He went on, leaving the two to their privacy.

A moment later, a small projectile on legs ran straight into him, nearly toppling him over. Grabbing at the recalcitrant sprite, he found himself with an armful of wriggling Elfling, the braids of her midnight tresses all undone, the pretty trim on her bodice consigned to near-oblivion and the hem of her gown sadly ripped where she had apparently trod on it.

"Let me go, 'Las!" she cried, trying to escape his grasp.

"Arwen!"

The twins rushed up, shaking their heads in botherment.

"We are sorry, _meldir_"—friend—Elladan said. "But Almáriel is missing and _Naneth_ asked us to keep an eye on this little hoyden for the moment."

"I am not hurt," Legolas assured him, handing him the said little hoyden. "And as for Almáriel, I believe she is busy at the moment with Daurin." He indicated the general direction of the courting pair's location with a jerk of his chin.

Elrohir clicked his tongue. "That is a flagrant dereliction of duty," he remarked disapprovingly. "What if we were not available to take care of Arwen?"

Legolas guffawed. "The dutiful brother of a sudden, Elrohir?" he teased. "You are not yourself!"

The Elf-knight mock-scowled then broke into a grin. "I am only jesting," he said. "Let Almáriel have the time with Daurin. She deserves a respite from Arwen's antics. Elbereth, Legolas, I wager she would best us in mischief were she a boy. 'Tis not meet that a girl should be so unruly."

"Am not unruly!" Arwen protested and stuck a delicate tongue out at the younger twin for good measure.

"See what I mean?" Elrohir said pointedly.

At that moment, a flustered Almáriel came into view to retrieve her willful charge. As they walked away together, Elladan regarded his little sister with fond exasperation.

"'Tis just as well _Adar_ and _Naneth_ are taking her with them to Lórien," he commented. "Let her plague the Galadhrim for a spell."

"And you have not done your share in upending all of Arda?" Legolas retorted with raised eyebrows.

"Aye, that we have and continue to do," Elladan laughed. "But as my esteemed brother pointed out, 'tis unseemly for a female to behave in such a manner. At least, that's what _Naneth_ claims when she tries to rein her in!"

Eventually, Heledir and Mithrael showed up and the young Elves headed outside. It was a glorious day and perfect for walking and the brethren had promised Heledir the chance to explore the high hills behind the Last Homely House.

Glossary:  
Viressë-Yavannië - Quenya for April-September  
Peredhil – Half-elven/Half-elves  
Edain - men of the Three Houses of Elf-friends in the First Age

_To be continued_…


	8. With Friends Like These 2

_**With Friends Like These**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
A few days later, Elrond and Celebrían departed for the Golden Wood, Arwen and her nurse, Almariel, in tow. It would be the little girl's first visit to her mother's parents and her first sojourn away from Rivendell as well. The twins were originally supposed to go on this long-scheduled trip but upon receipt of Legolas' letter informing them that he could at long last come to Imladris, both had backed out of the journey at once.

Friendship notwithstanding, this did not sit well with Elrond's household at all. For as sure as the sun rose each morn, they would likely bear the brunt of the twins' machinations. Add a spirited woodland prince and that could only mean headaches at best and full bodily collapses at worst. Only Glorfindel did not seem overly concerned but, as Erestor grumbled, that was to be expected since the twins knew better than to test the deceptively mild-mannered captain's patience or temper.

The elder Elves' dire predictions soon came to pass. Within days of their parents' departure, the brethren and their noble guest engaged in a series of scrapes surely meant to hasten a reasonably sane Elf's passage into the Halls of Waiting. One by one, Elrond's hapless counsellors and retainers fell victim to his sons' well-planned capers in which they were ably assisted by the Greenwood prince.

Having been spared timorous Ailios' embarrassingly noisy encounter with bristly spiders and horned beetles in his beddings, Erestor thought himself quite lucky. And when it was staid Gilrion who found himself with a lapful of quarrelling red-crested hens after he'd inadvertently dozed off while reading in the tranquil shade of one of the porches, the steward had reason to believe that perhaps the twins had finally decided to leave him alone. Until he became the butt of the age-old prank of a bucket of water perched atop his bedchamber door.

It was all Glorfindel could do not to laugh out loud when he saw the dignified, always meticulously attired advisor storming through the hallways, trailing brackish pond water behind him and fuming that he would hang, draw and quarter the first of the miscreants he came upon. It took all of the fair-maned captain's diplomacy to convince his colleague to forego that barbaric form of punishment.

In the wake of Erestor's inelegant dousing, Gildor Inglorion suddenly decided it was time for him to take another journey. Better to sleep and eat under the open skies and in all weathers than run the risk of being the princelings' next victim, he reasoned with all the logic of one bent on escaping insult and injury to one's dignity.

Two days before his departure, a small company of Elves arrived in the valley. Legolas watched curiously as Gildor avidly welcomed them. He and Elrohir were perched upon the balustrade of one of the porches that faced the courtyard of the house languidly observing the comings and goings of the afternoon. It was one of the few times they were not engaged in an activity of a more energetic or purposeful nature.

"Who are they?" he asked Elrohir.

"They are members of one of the wandering companies that roam the north," the Elf-knight explained. "Gildor travels with them quite often for they once dwelt in Lindon where he has kin."

"Lindon!" Legolas' eye's lighted up with fascination. Lindon was but a name to him; as much the stuff of legend as the Golden Wood. To behold Elves of that realm was no little thing to him, so sheltered had he been in the fastness of his father's kingdom in Eryn Galen.

"And does the noble shipwright, Círdan, still ply his craft?" he asked.

Elrohir nodded. "Now more than ever. Many of our kindred are leaving these shores. Our time in Middle-earth is slowly but surely drawing to a close and we will all have to make the choice whether to sail West or remain in these mortal lands, to become a hidden people." He suddenly turned pensive. "At least, others will have that choice. My siblings and I do not."

Legolas wondered at his friend's sadness.

"What do you mean?" he softly prodded.

Elrohir glanced at him. "What do you know of the choice of the Peredhil?"

The prince shrugged and duly recited: "'Tis told in Eryn Galen that your father and his brother, Elros, were given the choice to be either of the _Edhil_ or the _Edain_. Lord Elrond chose to be of the Firstborn but Elros became as a mortal man and was thus appointed the first king of ancient Númenor."

Elrohir nodded. "Elladan, Arwen and I must also make that choice," he soberly explained. "But we must do so before father departs these lands or forfeit our immortality."

Legolas frowned. "That doesn't sound too difficult," he remarked. "Surely you would choose to be of Elvenkind. 'Tis the only life you've known."

Elrohir shook his head. "'Tis not that simple. To claim our _Edhil_ heritage we must perforce take ship with _Adar_"—Father—"when he leaves Middle-earth whether we are ready to forsake these shores or not. 'Tis what the Valar decreed when first they gave our family the choice."

Legolas stared at the Elf-knight. "That is – that is not – fair," he protested. "Why should your destiny be ruled by another's desire?"

Elrohir sighed. "Only the Valar can answer that question. Elladan and I try not to think on it as yet. After all, _Adar_ will abide here for many more years."

"But your choice?" Legolas pressed. "You do not sound certain as to what it will be."

"I am not," Elrohir admitted. "Elladan seems inclined to cleave to Elf-kind but I do not know for certain what path I am meant to take. My father's or my uncle's."

Legolas was astounded. "How can you choose to become mortal?" he gasped. "'To willingly embrace the accursed Gift of Men? 'Tis madness to seek their doom!"

"Nay, _ernilen_"—my prince—"not if one carries the blood of Men in one's veins. I feel the Gift's lure, Legolas, its siren call."

"What call?" the archer asked bewilderedly.

"The call to freedom. To not be bound to the circles of the world. To be unencumbered by the ever growing weariness of living for centuries uncounted." The twilight eyes were aglow with a strange fire. "Only the most profound of reasons could make our eternal lives worth living, would ensure never-ending bliss."

"And what reason could this be?" Legolas queried, awed by the fire in the darkling Elf's silvery eyes.

"Love, Calenlass," the Elf-knight quietly replied.

The prince regarded his friend curiously.

"And think you that love will come your way?" he asked.

Elrohir sighed. "I hope so," he murmured. "Else the shortness of men's lives will prove the more tempting if I must exist in loneliness, alone, unloved."

Legolas' eyes widened at this alarming pronouncement. "Then I most sincerely pray you will get your wish, Elrohir," he declared tightly. "I do not want to lose you or your friendship. Swear that you will not make this choice without letting me have my say," he suddenly insisted with startling vehemence.

"Legolas—"

"_Swear!"_

It was Elrohir's turn to stare at his friend. Legolas looked positively haunted. His sapphire eyes burned with unmistakable fear.

"Legolas!" Elrohir exclaimed. "I did not mean to upset you so deeply. Forgive me." He clasped the prince's suddenly chilled hands. "I swear, _meldiren_"—my friend—"I will not make that decision without your counsel." Seeing that the golden-haired Elf was still troubled he raised one hand and cupped the other's chin reassuringly. "If it will console you, know this, the love of friends can be as potent as the love between spouses. You may very well be the one to hold me to our kindred for your friendship is something I treasure above all others."

Legolas felt his dread fade away as the Elf-knight's words washed soothingly and tenderly over him. With a tremulous smile, he gripped Elrohir's hand tightly and turned his head to press his cheek into the cup of the Elf-knight's warm palm.

"I will remind you of your oath as often as I must," he solemnly stated. "I will hold you to our kindred as best as I can." He took a deep calming breath. "I will not be parted from you by fate itself, Elrohir. _That_, I swear."

Elrohir stared at the prince with wonder.

"You feel strongly about this," he remarked.

"I feel strongly about anything that concerns my closest friend."

A sable eyebrow rose in surprise.

"_I_ am your closest friend?" he inquired. "But what of Heledir and Mithrael? Of Elladan?"

Legolas fell silent for a moment. At length he said: "'Tis difficult to explain. Heledir and Mithrael are the friends of my growing years; as such, they will always have a place in my heart. But you and Elladan I consider my very best friends despite the brevity of our acquaintance. Such is the pull both of you exert upon me. Yet you alone seem to know me better than anyone else, Elrohir, even better than I know myself. Seldom has anyone shown me such trust and concern as you do or doted on me without shame or regard for the opinion of others. In this you are closer to me than my own brothers, my old playmates and Elladan. In this, you are dearest to me of all my friends."

Elrohir looked at him wordlessly for several heartbeats. "I am...deeply touched, Calenlass," he whispered at last.

"Then you understand why I cannot do without you," the prince said quietly. "'Twould be like losing a part of myself."

The Elf-knight nodded somberly. "'Tis an honor that you should feel thusly about me," he murmured. "I will confess, I have never felt such profound affection for any not of my kin as I do for you, Legolas. I, too, cannot conceive of a life without your friendship."

The golden Elf smiled happily at the other's admission. Then the smile faded somewhat and he looked at Elrohir uncertainly. "Should Elladan find out about my sentiments, would – would he—?"

"Resent you?" Elrohir shook his head, beaming gently. "He would understand. Indeed, I think he already knows for he has many times remarked upon my swift and unwonted regard for you and your ungrudging return of it."

The smile returned to the prince's lips. "I am glad for I would not like to lose his esteem either. I am twice blessed in having met both of you. Few ever come to know the love of a true friend, let alone two of them."

The darkling Elf beamed with pleasure then glanced over the prince's shoulder to espy his brother approaching. Elladan had that peculiar gleam in his slate blue eyes that boded ill for whoever was on his mind.

"May I assume that you are planning something wicked, _gwaniuar_?"—older twin?—the younger twin mildly inquired.

"Indeed you may," Elladan grinned. "Tell me, _muindor_"—brother— "when was the last time you saw the interior of Iorwen's bedchamber?"

Elrohir stared at him. "Iorwen? Valar, Elladan, that was a long time ago. We were but Elflings then. Why do you ask?"

The grin widened and the gleam brightened. "Do you not think it time we took pity on the counsellors?" he murmured with spurious compassion. "I would that we turned our attentions elsewhere for a change."

Elrohir and Legolas looked at each other then grinned as well.

"Aye, a change would be interesting," Elrohir agreed. "What do you have in mind?"

"Come and I will show you what I have in mind."

oOoOoOo

Rivendell's golden-haired captain strode out of the house and scanned the garden in perplexity. He had been searching for Erestor for the better part of an hour to no avail. The only possible clue to the Elf's whereabouts was a muted burgundy robe the chief steward had been seen to be wearing earlier in the day. Glorfindel had found it carelessly flung over the back of a chair near the doors leading outside.

Seeing no sign of Erestor, the Noldorin Elf decided a further exploration of the garden was in order. He walked on, following the grassy slope that led away from the river and towards the well-kept orchards beyond, looking to and fro for some sign, any sign, of the steward's passage. Finally, he came to a stop below a thickly crowned oak of immense age.

"Erestor!" Glorfindel shouted, wondering where the steward had taken himself. "Where in Arda can he be?" he muttered in frustration.

A sudden hiss caught his attention. It came from the thick foliage directly above him. The warrior Elf looked up and gaped in astonishment.

Perched amidst the branches was the wontedly impeccably attired and well-mannered steward clad only in a lightweight tunic, sturdy long breeches and light shoes. The better to climb a tree, Glorfindel mused, torn between amazement and hilarity.

"What are you doing up there?" he demanded.

"What does it look like, Glorfindel?" Erestor replied tersely. "I am trying to get some peace and quiet!" He glanced up and into the distance, stiffening at whatever he beheld. He looked down and sharply told the other Elf: "If you intend to prolong this conversation, get up here this instant!"

Glorfindel did not hesitate but jumped lightly to grab a branch. With practiced ease and agility, he swung himself onto a limb hardly wider than his own arm. He looked in the same direction that Erestor was intently staring at.

The twins and Legolas were sprinting at full speed down the slope, laughing uproariously. Bearing down on them with most unfeminine rage was Iorwen. The cook was brandishing a homegrown weapon, one of her heavy skillets. She looked more than intent on using it on the younger Elves. The reason for her vengeful attitude was all too apparent. She was drenched in the same pond water the twins had used to such spectacular effect on Erestor previously. Only they had embellished their earlier endeavor by adding dye to the water. Thus, the Elf-woman's head and shoulders and a goodly portion of her torso were a disconcerting shade of bright orange.

The two counsellors remained absolutely still and quiet as the lordlings dashed by beneath them followed closely by the infuriated Elven lady. Only when the voices of both perpetrators and victim had faded into the distance did they release their breaths, which they had not realized they were holding.

"I suppose we should be grateful that Legolas' two friends do not often join in these activities," Glorfindel commented shortly.

"'Tis because Heledir and Mithrael are sensible, considerate Elves who know better than to plague their elders and court retribution!" Erestor scowled, his usual equanimity and haughty mien breaking down under duress of a most uncommon nature. "I will never agree to baby-sit this motley crew again!" he growled. "Elbereth, 'tis at times like these that one wishes one were not immortal!"

"Take heart, _meldir_"—friend—Glorfindel consoled him. "They will sober quickly enough when Elrond and Celebrían return."

"Would that Imladris will still be standing when they do!"

"Aye," the captain agreed with a faint smile. "I have oft feared these past three months that our beloved refuge would pass into legend _way_ before its time."

The intrinsic humor of the notion drew a gust of laughter from the normally grave steward. "Ai, you are fortunate that they fear you too much to play such pranks as they have foisted on the rest of the household," he said.

"But not enough to keep them from tormenting me just the same," Glorfindel replied. "I have had much to do trying to keep them from breaking their precious necks. I warrant Elrond will not be too pleased to be presented with less than live princelings upon his return. His rage should that come to pass would be far more dreadful than unbidden baths or creatures in our beddings."

Erestor shook his head in exasperation. "And I'd thought Legolas would have a calming effect on the twins."

Glorfindel guffawed. "As much chance of that happening as an Orc devoting itself to a life of good works!" At Erestor's resigned sigh, he added, "Thranduil said much the same thing to Elrond regarding the twins' hoped-for effect on Legolas."

Erestor gaped at the fair-haired captain, dignity forgotten for the moment. "He thought the twins would calm Legolas down?" he gasped. He rolled his eyes. "'Tis most apparent he knew nothing about our resident terrors."

"He does now," Glorfindel smirked. He turned serious once more. "The reason I sought you was to inform you that I am leading a patrol out tomorrow at first light. We should be back in a week's time."

Erestor nodded. "Good hunting then."

Glorfindel rose to his feet on the branch. "Are you not coming down?" he asked when Erestor made no move to follow suit.

"Nay, I will stay here for as long as they are up and about."

Glorfindel laughed. "You would spend the night up here?"

"'Tis safer up here than in my own chambers with those three planning their next prank."

With a last chuckle, the warrior Elf nimbly dropped to the ground and sauntered away. There were certain advantages to being known as the Balrog slayer of Gondolin, he thought good-humoredly. At the very least, it spared him the worst of the twins and Legolas' frightful schemes. What they did dare to play on him he had thus far been able to stomach with adequate grace. The Valar willing, they would continue to hold him in enough awe to stay their all too gamesome hands.

His thoughts went to his less fortunate associate. Poor Erestor, he grinned. Mayhap I should hide him in my quarters until Elrond and Celebrían get back!

Glossary:  
Edhil - Elves  
Edain – men of the Three Houses of Elf-friends in the First Age  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
Peredhil - Half-elven/Half-elves

_To be continued_…


	9. With Friends Like These 3

_**With Friends Like These**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
Glorfindel's departure the following day at the break of dawn was regarded with dismay by the rest of the household. It wasn't that they feared for him; a warrior who had fought in the wars of the First Age, slain a Balrog at the end of his first life and been sent back to Middle-earth by the Powers themselves in his second, was virtually unassailable by any creature of less power or stature than the noblest of the remaining High-elves in these Hither Lands.

But Glorfindel was the one Elf aside from Elrond and Celebrían whom the twins dared not cross overmuch. His presence had a dampening effect on their ebullience and they were more restrained when they knew he was around. That they still indulged in an occasional prank or two was acceptable; at least, the lessening of such incidents gave their victims enough time to recuperate from the last or brace themselves for the next.

Yet none sought to dissuade the Elda from his duty. Although the north now knew a measure of peace, everyone was well aware just how frail it was. The Dark Lord was overthrown but the evil creatures he had forced upon Middle-earth still roamed its plains, peaks and valleys.

Orcs spawned without surcease in the depths of the Misty Mountains, issuing from their noisome holes every now and then to ambush unwary travelers and ravage whatever settlements and towns their malevolent wanderings put in their way. Trolls took their toll as well, mauling and slaying all and sundry who fell into their ungainly snares, leaving gnawed bones and cracked skulls as evidence of their grisly feasts. And everywhere, brigands and other men of ill repute plied their honorless trades, testament to the lingering extent of Sauron's black influence.

Rivendell and the other elven realms of Lórien, Greenwood and Lindon were sometimes all that stood between their less ably defended neighbors and probable erasure from the maps of Middle-earth. As such, Glorfindel and his fellow Elven captains still led occasional sorties into the wild to curtail the threats to the security of their respective areas of responsibility.

Unfortunately, the golden Noldo's absence guaranteed that the security of his colleagues would be virtually nonexistent. Erestor began to consider a move to the Grey Havens in the wake of the captain's leave-taking. Particularly after a chagrined Lindir appeared before him two days hence with a ranting merchant from the Bree-land demanding that someone explain how it was that the wine in his guest chamber had suddenly turned into honeyed vinegar and why the berries in the dish by his bedside had been dredged in sea salt.

"Give me one good reason why I should not move my place of residence to Lindon," Erestor caustically queried after he'd finally pacified the man and sent him on his way.

Lindir shrugged and said: "Because the twins would only think up something more dastardly and simply send it to you in Lindon." At Erestor's groan, the housemaster added sympathetically: "If it's any consolation to you, the twins will probably leave you alone for a while until they've gone through everyone else first. That should give you some breathing space."

"Small comfort, Lindir," Erestor snorted. He contemplated the brown-haired Elf curiously. "I do not recall you complaining about anything to date. Are you so blessed as to have been spared thus far?"

Lindir shook his head ruefully. "If I have kept my silence, 'tis only because of my wounded pride."

"Elbereth, what did they do to you?"

"They stole my clothes while I swam in the river," the minstrel wryly explained. "I had to sneak back into the house after dark in naught but my skin. Thank the Powers no one saw me apart from those imps!"

Erestor stared at him aghast. "Remind me never to take another dip in the river again," he said faintly. He let out an exasperated exhalation. "Glorfindel offered me the use of his chamber while he is gone. I am now seriously considering the offer. The _pin nith_"—young ones—"never enter it without his permission even when he is away. Would you care to join me?"

"For a whole week of fearless slumber?" Lindir nodded his head vigorously. "Aye, I most definitely do!"

While Erestor and Lindir prepared themselves as if for a siege, the three Elves who had educed that state of mind in them chose to indulge in a harmless pastime for a change. With Mithrael and Heledir in tow, they headed for the river to cool off for it was a particularly hot summer day. While Elves were not as susceptible to the vagaries of climate or weather as mortals, even they could appreciate the refreshing effects of a bracing swim on a sweltering afternoon. The Loudwater's clear, rushing waters were perfect for this purpose.

The five quickly stripped and dove into the Bruinen's depths. As graceful as the sleek seals that graced the seas off Middle-earth's coasts, they cut smoothly through the sweeping current, untroubled by its chill or force. Then they were swimming hardily against it, heading for the cascades. But unlike the far northern salmon that struggled upriver to reach their spawning grounds, none was hindered by the powerful rush of water that sought to stay them. Such was the strength of their young bodies, fed by the power of their inner elven fire. Finally, they reached the majestic waterfall whose tumultuous roar could be heard all the way to the house.

Grinning with elation, they clambered out onto the steep banks. As they flopped down on the springy grass to dry their bodies in the heat of the summer sun, Mithrael suddenly became conscious of their states of undress and volunteered to run back for their packs. A grinning Heledir agreed to accompany him.

They were swift runners and soon returned, Mithrael already fully dressed in shirt and breeches. Chuckling at the scholar's un-elvish modesty in the company of fellow males, the twins and Legolas followed Heledir's example and donned their breeches to spare Mithrael more blushes.

With a contented sigh, Legolas leaned back against the trunk of a willow tree. Nearby, Elladan lay on his back, his eyes closed, looking for all the world as if he were asleep.

Elrohir grinned at the indolent figure his brother cut as he tossed their packs into a neat pile. He idly watched Mithrael and Heledir move towards the near perpendicular rock face beside the cascade. A moment later, he chuckled as the two began to make their way up, intent on reaching the high cliff above. He turned his attention to Legolas.

Something about the prince's appearance stilled his aimless perusals. He regarded his lounging friend thoughtfully before reaching for his pack and rummaging in it until he found what he needed. He drew out a thick, loosely bound artist's sketchbook and a length of tapered charcoal. Flipping the parchment sheets to a blank page, he set to work, his argent eyes flicking to the archer every now and then.

Stirring, Elladan opened his eyes and turned his head to speak to Legolas when he saw what his twin was about. The grey blue orbs gleamed with amusement and a knowing smile curled his lips. Legolas saw his expression and started to turn his head to see what the older twin was looking at. But Elladan grabbed his hand and shook his head.

"Do not move, _mellonen_"—my friend—he murmured.

Puzzled, Legolas did as he was bid but he managed a peek through the corner of his eyes. With a start, he realized Elrohir was sketching him and from the intent cast of his fair countenance, he was obviously serious about his task. Faint color stained the prince's cheeks. No one had yet sought to commit his image to any form of art, whether drawn, sculpted or molded. He wondered that Elrohir thought him worthy of his skill or effort.

Finally, the younger twin finished his endeavor with a satisfied sigh. It was then that he noticed both his brother and the subject of his sketch looking at him curiously. This time, it was his turn to blush.

"May I see it?" Legolas asked shyly.

Elrohir hesitated then rose and sauntered over to them. He handed the book to his friend. Elladan scrambled to sit beside the prince that he might see his twin's handiwork as well. His eyes softened at first sight of the image on parchment.

It showed Legolas as he had been earlier, lounging languorously against the tree, one leg bent, the other stretched out lazily, an arm resting easily on the bent limb. His fair hair clung wetly to his neck and shoulders in molten tendrils calling attention to the lean lines and well-defined muscles of his upper torso.

Elrohir had captured not only Legolas' countenance and form but his character as well. The Greenwood prince was beauty and grace personified when seen through the eyes of the younger twin. But Elrohir had also somehow managed to convey the banked fires behind the languid pose; had revealed the wild spirit behind the serene front.

Legolas raised his azure eyes from the sketch to lock gazes with the Elf-knight.

"I am not—" he started to say in a hushed voice. "You think too highly of me to render me so...so..."

"Beautiful?" Elrohir said seriously. "But you are, _malthernil_."—golden prince. "How can you think otherwise?"

Legolas colored anew at the praiseful epithet and dropped his eyes to the sketch once more while at his side, Elladan darted a sharp glance at his brother. But Elrohir simply looked back at him with a questioning gaze.

Legolas drew a deep breath then looked up at Elrohir. His eyes were now warm and glowing.

"I am ever so grateful for your regard, Elrohir," he softly declared. "'Tis soothing to my spirit and a boost to my esteem as well that you should find me comely."

Something in the way he uttered these last words caught Elladan's notice. He studied Legolas incredulously.

"Why, Legolas?" he queried. "Have the woodland folk not sung your praises? Surely many have told you of your beauty in the green wood."

The prince shrugged. "Aye, many have told me," he agreed. "But I cannot wholly trust their intent. The men flatter me in the hopes of gaining influence over my father through me. And as for the women...some see a tumble with a king's son as a conquest worth flaunting while others seek a consort's crown. They sing my praises but the praise comes at a price I am not willing to pay."

He turned his gaze upon Elrohir once more, the blued pools of his eyes incandescent with gratitude and affection, the beginnings of a radiant smile slowly lighting up his features.

"However, such praise from the friends of my heart strike to the very core. I know it to be true. I do not know if I deserve it but it fills me with great pleasure and joy that you should regard me so highly, Elrohir."

The Elf-knight had sobered as he listened to his friend's exposition of the less commendable side of Eryn Galen's politicking. But at Legolas' patent happiness, he now returned the smile.

"I will keep this sketch always," he quietly stated, tracing gentle fingers over the charcoal image. "In remembrance of this day's revelation."

Elladan looked at Elrohir speculatively. His twin had discerned that Legolas would not only appreciate his sincere compliment but would be hungry for it as well. An instant later, he recognized the true nature of their seemingly sudden intimacy. He, too, smiled then, approving and relieved for his brother's sake.

Too often had Elrohir foregone close friendships with Elves of their age out of caution and mistrust. Indeed, in the valley itself, few counted themselves amongst those the Elf-knight would willingly lay down his life for and they were to be found solely amongst the older Elves. Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir, Iorwen and Almáriel had long earned Elrohir's love and loyalty. But the Elves nearer or of their own years, even amongst the warriors with whom they regularly trained, had not elicited that same devotion from the younger twin.

Now here was one who had finally tapped the vast reservoir of love Elrohir possessed who was near his equal in age and stature. The fact that it was a stranger to the vale, an Elf of another realm that had done so was amazing but posed no problems to the more welcoming residents of Rivendell. And it was of no matter to Elladan that their peculiar closeness was exclusive to them. So long as Elrohir had found that elusive heart-felt comradeship he'd long sought, Elladan was gratified and well pleased.

He allowed his feelings to surge along the intangible bond they shared in their close twinship and was rewarded by the sparkle in the brief look his brother cast him.

"_Hannon le_, Legolas"—Thank you—he impulsively said.

The Elf-prince looked at him in surprise. "For what, _meldiren_?"—my friend?

"Exactly," Elladan grinned. "For being our friend. You bring the sun's radiance with you wherever you go and we are blessed to bask in it." _Especially you, tôren_—my brother—he added silently to his twin through their unseen connection.

Legolas turned an even deeper shade of red than before. "Really, you two will spoil me," he murmured. But there was no denying his deep pleasure at their tender attention.

The magic of the moment was broken with the return of Mithrael and Heledir. But not the bond now firmly forged between the woodland prince and the younger twin, the warmth and affection of which was so great as to encompass the older one as well.

_To be continued_…


	10. With Friends Like These 4

_**With Friends Like These**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
A week later, Glorfindel and the border patrol returned and with the Elda's arrival came a measure of peace and quiet. At least, peace and quiet relative to the usual tumult that oft followed in the twins and Legolas' wake. Taking pity on his colleagues, Glorfindel set out to make his presence more strongly felt than he'd previously done.

Restrained by the golden captain's watchful presence, the young Elves turned to other activities in which to expend their bottomless energies. Thus, one day's passage found them in the thickly forested hills to the east of the house, putting their tracking skills to the test.

Legolas grumbled as he sought for signs of Elladan's passage. The twins were good trackers but even better at eluding those who tracked them. It mortified him that he, a forest savvy Wood-elf, was having such a difficult time picking up the older twin's trail. He wondered how Heledir and Mithrael were doing in their pursuit of Elrohir. Just then he heard a muffled sound.

Grinning, he did not stop to consider that Elladan would never make so much noise as to give away his location. The prince silently crept through the brush towards the direction of the sound. He reached out and parted the thick shrubbery before him.

A small clearing, veiled by hanging vines and thick brush, was revealed to him. Yet it was not the clearing that snagged his attention but what was occurring in it.

Upon a dark cloak were two Elves, their naked bodies unmistakably locked in utmost intimacy. Legolas' first reaction was embarrassment at having inadvertently intruded on such a private moment. His next reaction was considerably less calm. Both Elves were dark-haired, comely and – Legolas suddenly realized with patent shock – undeniably, unrelentingly _male_.

Legolas first dazed thought was, _So that's how it's done_. He was not aware of any relationships in the Greenwood concerning Elves of the same kind, much less knew just how coupling was achieved between them. His second more lucid thought was, _I know them!_ The two Elves were Daurin and Enedrion. But how can this be? Legolas wondered distractedly. Daurin is courting Almáriel. His third now fully coherent thought was, _I have to get out of here!_

He propelled himself so hastily out of the bushes that he failed to see where he was going and ended up colliding with Elladan who had sneaked around to catch the prince by surprise. The older twin gasped as he was felled by an armful of panicking flaxen-haired Elf.

"What are you doing, Leg—!" he yelped only to have a frantic hand clapped gracelessly over the lower half of his face, momentarily cutting off both his sentence and his air supply.

"Sshh, come away at once, Elladan," Legolas hissed, pulling the twin to his feet and forcibly leading him away.

When they were a decent distance away from the clearing, Legolas came to a halt. Elladan peered at him wonderingly, noting his reddened complexion.

"What is wrong?" he queried with concern.

"I-I saw Daurin and Enedrion together," Legolas stuttered. "In that-that clearing yonder."

Elladan blinked uncomprehendingly. "So?" he prodded.

Legolas swallowed hard. "I mean, _together_ – as in intimately," he clarified.

Elladan stared at him then unexpectedly grinned. "Oh," he chuckled. "No wonder you were embarrassed! Really, those two ought to be more discreet."

"Discreet?" Legolas echoed. "Is that all you have to say?" At Elladan's blank response, he blurted out, "Elladan! They are both male!"

Enlightenment finally descended upon Elladan but it was not the kind Legolas had expected. The raven-haired Elf shook his head and remarked musingly, "Ai, you are not used to this. I had forgotten that 'tis not allowed in Eryn Galen."

Legolas stared at him. "You mean you are not shocked?" he gasped.

Elladan hesitated then decided to be open with the prince. It would be ridiculous to try and skirt the issue when Legolas had already been introduced to it and in such a precipitous manner yet. He shrugged and said: "Nay, why should I be? Really, Legolas, surely you know that even amongst your warriors, 'tis permitted to help a comrade find release when they are far from the comforts of home."

The prince gulped at the other Elf's straightforward manner. "I am well aware of that, Elladan. But 'tis only done in extreme need and all they do is-is—" he could not continue his sentence in his discomfiture.

"Fondle each other in the dark," Elladan finished for him making the archer flush an even brighter crimson. "Nonetheless, 'tis still a way of pleasuring a fellow male."

"But they weren't just touching! Enedrion was – I mean, Daurin – that is, they should not—"

"Do calm down, _cunneth_"—princeling—Elladan said smoothly. "'Tis most unbecoming of Thranduil's son to be so pitifully inarticulate."

Legolas drew a deep breath then blew it out. "How can Daurin do this?" he demanded. "He is courting Almáriel, is he not?"

Elladan nodded with maddening, to the prince, equanimity. "He is having some difficulty making up his mind whom to choose," he explained. "Not that I blame him. Almáriel and Enedrion are equally attractive."

"But Enedrion is male!"

"Of course, Enedrion is male," a voice interrupted. "I thought that was established at his birth." Elrohir emerged from the cover of trees trailed by Heledir and Mithrael. From the expressions on his friends' faces, Legolas guessed they hadn't had any more luck tracking Elrohir than he had Elladan. "Why are you discussing Enedrion's gender?" the younger twin asked.

Elladan smiled faintly. "Not his gender, _muindor_"—brother—"but his 'activities'. Legolas just saw him and Daurin – _together_."

Elrohir frowned, obviously cognizant of his brother's meaning. "Daurin should make his choice soon. He cannot straddle the fence forever. He will end up hurting one or the other."

"Aye, I suspect Enedrion's feelings run deeper than he lets on," Elladan agreed.

Heledir looked as much at sea as Legolas had earlier but, to Elladan's relief, Mithrael nodded in comprehension. Finally, a Greenwood Elf who actually knew something about the world beyond the constricting borders of his forest!

"But why this interest in Enedrion's affairs?" Elrohir asked, puzzled.

Elladan glanced at Legolas. "Our _ernil daur_"—forest prince—"cannot conceive of such close intimacy between two Elves of the same kind," he explained.

Elrohir's only reaction was a simple, "Oh." The look he exchanged with his brother was one of mingled amusement and slight alarm. Like Elladan, he, too, had forgotten about the proscription on such pairings amongst the Silvan Elves of Greenwood.

"How can I?" Legolas said defensively. "'Tis not a thing done in Eryn Galen!"

"Oh, yes, it is," Mithrael said unexpectedly. "'Tis just that those who feel differently keep themselves hidden for fear of censure or reprisal."

Legolas and Heledir stared at their fellow Wood-elf in surprise. "How do you know that?" Heledir challenged.

Mithrael rolled his eyes. "I can see, can't I?" he pointed out. "Just because I bury my nose in books, as you so often tease me, does not mean I'm blind. Which is more than I can say for some Wood-elves I know!"

As the twins chortled at the well-placed jibe, Legolas and Heledir both turned a nice shade of red. Heledir managed a weak grin but Legolas was patently abashed. He had always prided himself on taking an interest in a variety of subjects. That he should be considered ignorant about this matter did not sit well with him even if the matter was disquieting to say the least.

"Then – then, you do not consider their behavior – unnatural?" he ventured uneasily.

Seeing that Elladan had already taken the same course, Elrohir decided to be honest with his friend as well even if it caused him unease. "What I find unnatural is Almáriel's lack of jealousy," he said seriously. "She does not seem troubled that Daurin should be on such intimate terms with Enedrion and withholds what her rival gives so freely."

Elladan suggested: "Mayhap she thinks to whet Daurin's appetite enough to force him into finally making a choice in her favor. After all, what is forbidden is oft thought the sweetest and therefore the more desirable."

"Mayhap. But enough talk about this dubious triangle. 'Tis time we went back lest Glorfindel suspect us of planning the worst."

But Legolas held back, frowning in confusion. "I do not understand," he said. "Are you saying that bindings between Elves of the same kind are permitted here?"

The brethren took a moment to silently seek each other's counsel before Elladan nodded. "And in Lórien and Lindon, aye," he confirmed.

Taken aback at first, the prince paused to calm his jumbled thoughts and feelings. He exhaled slowly. "It seems I have been kept in the dark about a few things," he murmured.

"You are not alone," Heledir muttered, his cheeks still a little rosy.

Elrohir thoughtfully regarded his friend who seemed embarrassed by his ignorance and at the same time disconcerted by the topic of their conversation. "Such passions are prohibited in Eryn Galen. 'Tis natural that you would not readily know about them, _mellonen_"—my friend—he said kindly. "Do not feel shamed by this."

Legolas nodded slowly. "But Mithrael is right," he conceded. "I have been blind. I must open my eyes if I am to learn all that I can."

Elrohir smiled and linked his arm with the prince's. "Then you have already learned a most valuable lesson," he reasoned. "This experience, however shocking it may have been for you, has not been in vain."

Legolas had to grin at the younger twin's observation. "Aye, it has not."

Doing his best to put the disturbing incident behind him, the Elf-prince set his mind to enjoying what remained of the day with his friends.

oOoOoOo

That evening, the twins sought Glorfindel and Erestor's advice. Other young Elves might feel so much trepidation at making such an admission as to not be able to do it at all but neither twin was known to run from the truth no matter how discomfiting or shy from criticism regardless of its harshness. As such, they recounted the events that had led to Legolas' unexpected though still limited enlightenment, leaving nothing out even to their own responses.

"We know Thranduil did not want Legolas to find out so soon about this matter," Elladan concluded. "But we could hardly deny what he had seen with his own eyes."

Elrohir added: "And we did not think it fair or wise to mislead him into thinking 'twas an unnatural act amongst our kindred."

Glorfindel nodded. "You did right in making it clear that 'tis accepted in all the elven realms save Greenwood," he agreed. "But 'twas also prudent of you not to elucidate the matter any further. 'Twould be best if Legolas learned about this gradually." He glanced at Erestor, mutely seeking the other Elf's opinion.

The auburn-haired steward sighed resignedly. "'Tis sooner than Thranduil would have liked but, as you said, Legolas had to be told something of the old tradition," he murmured. "I only hope his next lesson does not come as precipitately as this one did. He will need time to come to terms with this newfound knowledge. I would that he be granted it ere he must learn more of our kindred's ancient ways."

"We will not speak any further of it if we can help it," Elrohir assured them.

"But neither can we hold our tongues should he ask us directly for more information," Elladan pointed out. "'Tis his right and duty to know all there is to be known about the history of our peoples."

"Agreed," Glorfindel said. "Let us only hope that when that time should come, the young prince will be ready for the full revelation of it." He looked keenly at the twins. "I trust that should the task fall to you that you will educate him to the best of your abilities?"

"Of course, Glorfindel," Elrohir replied softly. "We only want what is best for him."

When they had gone the two counsellors shared a rueful gaze.

"I suppose it was too much to ask that nothing of great import would occur during the prince's visit," Erestor wryly remarked.

"Definitely too much to ask," Glorfindel conceded with a faint smile. "Particularly since he keeps such constant company with the twins."

_To be continued_…


	11. With Friends Like These 5

_**With Friends Like These**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
All too soon, or so it seemed to the woodland prince, summer passed into autumn. Elrond and Celebrían finally came home to the relief of their now thoroughly harassed household.

A radiant Arwen, obviously exhilarated by her first journey out of the valley, launched herself into her brothers' arms as soon as she was set down from Elrond's lap.

"'Adan! 'Rohir! Did you miss me?" she cried, hugging each fiercely in turn.

"Of course, we missed you, _thel neth_"—young sister—Elrohir murmured against her fragrant tresses. "And you? Did you miss us?"

She pouted a little petulantly at them. "You should have come to Lórien," she said. "It would have been more fun."

"You know why we stayed behind, _pen vell_"—dear one—Elladan said, taking her into his arms.

"We could have taken 'Las with us," she pointed out with innocent sagacity. "He would have enjoyed it."

Legolas chuckled. "I'm sure I would have," he agreed. "Mayhap next time."

Arwen giggled then wriggled out of the older twin's arms. Dashing back to Celebrían she soon returned with a quiver full of arrows and a Lórien bow fashioned just for her size and age. The three lordlings chuckled appreciatively; the attention to detail was amazing considering the smallness of the articles.

"Grandfather and Grandmother gave it to me!" she announced. "I practiced with them every day."

"Then you must be a fearsome archer by now," Elladan grinned.

Arwen took him at his word. "Oh, yes, the very best," she said, nodding enthusiastically. It was all the three could do to stifle their laughter.

"You must show us your skill before Legolas returns home," Elrohir told her.

Arwen stared frowningly at the prince. "You are going?" she scowled.

"I have been here far longer than expected," Legolas said. "'Tis time for me to return to Eryn Galen."

Arwen pursed her dainty lips. "But you must wait until 'Adan and 'Rohir's begetting day," she suggested suddenly.

The twins started at her words. "By Elbereth, I hadn't thought of that," Elrohir commented. He glanced at Legolas. "She's right, Calenlass, you must stay for that. 'Tis only a few days more after all."

Legolas beamed, glad of an excuse to extend his visit even for a few more days. "It will be my pleasure," he replied.

With the Lord and Lady of Rivendell back, peace reigned once more though admittedly in fits and starts. Even their parents' presence could not repress the irrepressible twins for any decent length of time. But something else served to dampen the young Elves' usual exuberance. They remained all too conscious of the swift passage of time and the separation it heralded.

oOoOoOo

The twins chose to celebrate their shared begetting day with a picnic by the cascades. It was a merry occasion and one marked by the renewal of closeness amongst family and friends as the brethren had intended. Mellowed by good food and an abundance of wine, even the various victims of their antics found the wherewithal to forgive though probably not forget.

Legolas grinned as Arwen squirmed impatiently on Elladan's lap.

Brother and sister sat by the riverbank, Elladan leaning slightly against a large boulder. A little to their right, Glorfindel sparred with Heledir, showing him a few tricks picked up during his days in ancient Gondolin. Beyond them, Mithrael kept company with Lindir as they raptly watched Elrond and Erestor engage in a masterful game of Strategy. Higher up the bank, a safe distance away from the water, beneath the same spreading willow Legolas had lounged under several days earlier, Iorwen and Almáriel watched over the still considerable remains of the bountiful meal the former had spread out earlier. Every so often, they would dispense refreshments to any who needed added sustenance.

"Do be still, Arwen," the older twin reproved. "You only make it more difficult for Elrohir to finish soonest."

Elrohir chuckled even as he continued to sketch his siblings. "If you do not stop moving so much, I will make you look like a little Orc, _thel neth_," he teased.

Arwen's eyes widened indignantly. "You wouldn't," she declared. Then less certainly, she looked up at Elladan and said: "Would he?"

Elladan snickered. "You know very well how capable he is of doing _anything_," he pointed out. "So if you do not wish to come out looking like one of those foul creatures, you had best behave."

Arwen pouted but settled down into relative stillness. Mercifully, at least in her opinion, Elrohir soon finished his work and handed it to a smiling Celebrían.

"'Tis very well done, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—she said with maternal pride. "You could very well be a fine artist if only you practiced more diligently."

Elrohir shook his head with a scapegrace grin. "I fear an artist's life would not suit me, _Nana_"—Mama—he replied. "'Twould be much too tame for my taste."

Celebrían laughed softly and stroked his cheek with her knuckles. "Ah, _rochen neth_"—my colt—she murmured. "Do not forget that the hand that wields a sword can also create things of great beauty." She glanced tenderly in her husband's direction. "Witness your father's many talents."

Elrohir blushed. "I did not mean to belittle artists or the lives they lead," he earnestly said. "I only meant that I cannot sit still long enough to create anything more exacting or requiring more of my time than a simple sketch."

Elladan guffawed. "That is an understatement," he commented.

Legolas smiled but did not laugh. Instead, he sighed, besieged by mixed feelings. The twins' begetting day had arrived all too soon and was now passing too quickly for his liking. Whether he wished it or not, he was perforce compelled to turn his thoughts to the journey back to Greenwood.

"Why, Legolas, what troubles you?" Celebrían softly inquired.

The prince flushed; embarrassed she should have noticed his gloom. "'Tis only that I must return home and I..." He bit his lip and glanced at the twins. Both were regarding him with understanding and empathy.

"You do not wish to go just yet," Celebrían gently finished for him.

The prince nodded. "'Tis not that I do not love Eryn Galen," he hastily clarified. "But Imladris is more beautiful and wondrous than I ever imagined or expected. I have enjoyed myself so much that I am loath to leave these all behind."

Celebrían smiled. "Is it Imladris that so enthralls you or its sons?" she suggested. "Because if 'tis the latter, then any place in Arda will be as wondrous so long as you are in their company."

Legolas stared at her, startled at the thought. At length, he drew a deep breath and said: "You are right, my lady. 'Tis the friendship I have found with your sons that tempts me to stay."

"Then take with you as many memories as you can gather, prince of Greenwood," the lady said. "They will bring comfort to you until such time when you can all be together again. And knowing these sons of mine, it will be sooner than late I dare say," she ended on an amused note.

Her words brought a measure of comfort to the forest prince at least for a while. But his spirits drooped once more and continued to do so as his day of departure loomed ever closer. On the eve of his leave-taking, he was hard-pressed to put on a smiling countenance, so reluctant was he to end his stay in the vale.

It was a pensive young prince who came out to the courtyard the following morning where his friends and warriors awaited him. Elrohir took one look at his far from happy countenance and slipped his fingers under the archer's lowered chin to make him look up and meet his eyes.

"Cheer up, Calenlass," he soothed. "We will not be parted overlong. As soon as can be, we will go to you."

"But how many years must pass before that happens?" Legolas asked woefully. "You cannot spend every summer in Eryn Galen nor can I come here as oft as I would."

Elladan smiled. "The years pass swiftly for our kind, as you very well know, _ernil daur_."—forest prince. "And as for awaiting several summers, we may visit you next spring instead."

The azure eyes lighted up. "Truly?" he queried hopefully. "Can Lord Elrond spare you so soon?"

"Aye, he can," Elrohir affirmed. "We asked him this as soon as he and _Naneth_"—Mother—arrived. He knows how much we cherish you, Legolas."

The prince beamed with pleasure at this heartfelt admission of affection. "Then I shall look forward to this winter's end and hope to see you riding down the path to my father's halls come next year's spring."

As always, he hugged each of the twins, then mounted his steed. With a last wave to the brethren, he led his people from the courtyard and onto the track out of the valley. Elladan and Elrohir remained where they were, watching their friend until the entire party disappeared from sight. Both sighed and turned to enter the house. Only to yelp in unison when a bucketful of icy water was suddenly unloaded on them, leaving them stunned and drenched. A peal of piping laughter pierced the quiet and a small figure darted back into the house.

"_Arwen!"_

On that growling duet, Elrond's sons raced after their only sister. Watching from a safe distance, Erestor nodded his head approvingly at his companion.

"You were right, Glorfindel. 'Tis amazing what an Elfling will do when pointed in the right direction."

The End

**Part 3:** Tender Musings. Rating: T


	12. Interlude: Tender Musings

**Warning:** This is slash fiction with a smattering of het and many parts carry an M rating. If that is not your cup of tea, cease and desist right now. Go no further. Otherwise, welcome aboard and I do hope you enjoy reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Summary:** Is there a limit to how deeply one may feel about a friend?

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** One of Webster's definitions of an interlude is 'that which takes place between two points in time.' So this is a short piece bridging _With Friends Like These_ and the upcoming stories.

_**Interlude: Tender Musings**_  
_by Eressë_

Eryn Galen, _ethuil_ T.A. 562  
The drill yard beside the barracks of the Woodland Realm of Northern Eryn Galen was more crowded than usual as the sound of clashing steel resounded across the open space. But it was not only the uncommonly large number of spectators that caused many a passing Elf to take a second look. It was also the nature of said spectators. A goodly portion of the crowd was female of the distinctly non-martial variety; the majority was obviously more interested in the two warriors currently engaged in swordplay than in the swordplay itself. Such was the attraction of the twin sons of Elrond whenever they visited Greenwood the Great.

The Elf-women twittered and fussed, oohing and aahing at each quicksilver thrust, deft parry or graceful motion. That was not to be wondered at. In the years since they first set foot in the forest kingdom, Elladan and Elrohir had only grown ever more comely both in form and spirit.

Clad in identical sleeveless, open-necked jerkins, long breeches and sturdy boots, their sable tresses bound into thick, single plaits, they called unwitting attention to the majesty of their formidable forms. The brethren were tall and sleekly muscled and more broad of shoulders and solid of limbs than was the rule for the Firstborn. But they were also lean and lissome and as fluid in their movements as any pure-blooded Elf. They were the potent results of their mixed heritage, fatally handsome, dangerously sensual, and all too desirable. With effortless ease, they inspired covetousness in just about every maid present as well as a few males though the latter maintained utmost secrecy and never dared reveal their interest in public.

The twittering rose to a crescendo as the sparring grew more heated. Soon, in the lightning swiftness of their feral ballet, it became near impossible to tell which twin was which. Even the woodland warriors now watched in earnest, noting with understandable fascination the foreign strokes and tactics employed by the brothers as they strove for mastery.

The end of the match came most unexpectedly when Elrohir, in a blur of motion, slipped past Elladan's defenses and, with shocking fleetness, brought the tip of his blade against his brother's throat. For a moment, silence descended upon the yard as the two stared at each other, the younger twin with cool triumph, the older with fast dawning recognition of the move that had bested him.

"Well done, Elrohir!" he suddenly laughed. "I had forgotten that old trick."

Elrohir smirked, lowering his sword and re-sheathing it. "Old but useful nevertheless. And Glorfindel would not appreciate your calling one of his favorite strokes an 'old trick,' _gwanunigen_."—my twin.

Elladan chuckled. "Aye, he would not. And indeed, old or not, I will own myself careless for having forgotten it. But be warned, brother, I will not be taken by surprise next time."

"I know you will not," Elrohir readily agreed. "But, come, enough of this banter. 'Tis Legolas' turn to take the field."

He glanced to his side as a golden-haired figure rapidly approached them. Attired as they were, the youngest prince of Greenwood was breathtaking to behold. Time and experience had wrought changes in the once deceptively delicate Elf and sculpted him into what he had been born to be: a warrior prince of near unparalleled beauty and remarkable strength.

Though not quite as tall and muscled as the brethren, he was a perilous presence just the same and the twittering soon rose once more as interest shifted to the Sindarin prince. But the desire shown was more restrained, as it had not been when trained on Elrond's sons. For Legolas was not as profligate as his friends and was far more selective in his bedmates. He did not take every Elf-maid he fancied though he had earned a reputation as a skillful lover as well.

He grinned at the twins as he passed them on his way to meet his opponent. Haldorn was one of Thranduil's best warriors and few had ever gotten the better of him in battle. To engage him in any form of combat was asking for trouble but Legolas was no timid Elfling still seeking to prove his mettle to his betters. He had long passed into the much admired ranks of the kingdom's redoubtable warriors and did not flinch at the prospect of pitting himself against anyone, not even the most renowned of them.

Both brothers smiled back but Elrohir stayed him with a slight touch on the arm. When Legolas paused, he murmured something to the prince, which elicited a slight nod and a pleased smile. And then they parted and Legolas strode off to face Haldorn.

Elladan watched his brother watch Legolas as the prince tested his skill in knife-play against the famed woodland warrior. There was a strange fire in the younger twin's argent eyes that kindled more oft than not only in the presence of their friend. He wondered at it anew and thought to give voice to his misgivings.

"You dote on him," he commented. "I wager you would upend all Middle-earth for his sake."

"And yours," Elrohir retorted, turning his head to regard his twin. "I would do anything for those I hold dear, you know that, _tôren_."—my brother.

"Aye, we all do," Elladan smiled fondly, "and treasure such devotion. But your regard for Legolas confounds me now and anon. He gained your hardly-won loyalty and affection in so short a time, I confess it amazed me and continues to do so."

Elrohir considered the golden-haired prince once more. "There is an innocence in him that I would preserve at all cost," he admitted.

Elladan raised a skeptical eyebrow. "He is no longer untouched, Elrohir. We ensured that ourselves."

"Nay, I did not mean innocence in that matter," grinned Elrohir. "I mean, here," he elucidated, placing a hand upon his chest. "Seldom have I felt such purity of heart in any being. Even were he to know the evils that taint Arda, Manwë forbid, I warrant he would remain untainted by them. I think him incorruptible. Such is the goodness in him."

Elladan gazed at his brother curiously. "I have never heard you speak with so much esteem of any creature, Elf or mortal, outside of our family."

The younger twin shrugged. "I had not met any worthy of my praise," he replied. "I'd come to believe no such one existed."

His brother frowned slightly. "Beware, _gwanneth_."—younger twin. "You begin to speak in the manner of one smitten."

He was rewarded, to his admitted relief, with a gust of unaffected laughter.

"_I_? Smitten?" Elrohir chuckled. "As much possibility of that as _you_ falling in love with a troll!"

The older twin screwed his face up in disgust. "You could have chosen a more palatable comparison!" he chided.

Elrohir snickered at the other's displeasure. He returned his gaze to the Greenwood prince then smiled as Legolas finally nailed his opponent with commendable skill and grace.

"He will be a mighty warrior, _gwaniaur_"—older twin—he said proudly. "A match for us, I predict. And did you see him at archery yesterday? He will best us one day, Elladan." His smile was one of anticipation. "I look forward to the coming years in his company. We will not find it dull in the least."

Elladan smiled as well, his anxiety dissipating for the present. "Aye, that we will not."

The twins chuckled as a jubilant Legolas hurried to them. In the centuries since they first met, the woodland archer had come to gauge his abilities by the opinions of his friends. He listened avidly to their counsel and basked in their approbation. Today was no exception and he was filled with delight at the open admiration in their grey eyes. They clapped congratulatory hands on his shoulders when he neared them.

"That was splendid, Calenlass," Elrohir said warmly.

"Aye, 'twas a peerless display of mastery," Elladan added.

Legolas beamed at their praise. "I have you to thank," he said to Elrohir. "Your suggestion was brilliant and helped me at the last. But my swordsmanship still leaves much to be desired. That trick you used on Elladan was incredible. 'Twas uncommonly fast and daring."

"It should be," Elrohir replied. "'Tis one of Glorfindel's favorite moves; something that was oft used by the warriors of the House of the Golden Flower in ancient Gondolin."

"Truly?" Legolas eyes flashed with sapphire flame. "Then you must instruct me in its use, _meldiren_."—my friend.

"What, now?" the younger twin laughed.

"We are out here," Legolas pointed out. "What better time is there?"

"Valar, you are eager. Very well, I will teach you what I know."

They strode onto the field together, Elrohir already explaining to the prince as they went. Elladan shook his head in amusement. When Legolas got started, there was often no stopping him. No wonder he'd improved so swiftly these past many years.

"Elladan?"

He turned with surprise at the sound of the gravely sweet voice. Legolas' younger sister, Nimeithel, stood but a few paces behind him. Born belatedly to Thranduil and Ithilwen just eighteen years past, she had her mother's dark hair, white skin and willowy grace and her father's strong and striking features cast in a softer, feminine mold.

"How long have you been standing there?" Elladan asked, reaching out a welcoming hand.

The little lass took the proffered hand and stepped to his side. She took a moment to observe her brother spar with her companion's twin before replying: "I heard you caution Elrohir about seeming to be smitten with Legolas. What did you mean by that?"

Elladan pursed his lips. It had not been his intention that anyone would hear their exchange, much less Legolas' own sister.

"I was speaking of appearances," he said.

"Appearances?"

"It would not do for others to think Elrohir's regard for your brother too... profound."

"Why?" Nimeithel frowned. "What is wrong with feeling deeply about anyone?"

Elladan studied her thoughtfully. The Elf-princess had always been a solemn child and a perceptive one at that. One could not hope to get away with an outright falsehood. He would have to resort to dissembling instead.

"Your people might mistake such feelings for something unnatural," he carefully replied. "You know what can happen when folk are confronted with the unexpected; especially when 'tis also forbidden."

She nodded. "Elrohir could get hurt."

"Aye, he could," Elladan said quietly, thankful she had not marked his use of the term 'your people.' "I would not want that to happen to my brother."

Nimeithel looked at him, her dove grey eyes agleam with understanding. "Then 'tis good that he does not feel as you thought," she said. "I would not want him to be hurt either. I would not want either of you to be hurt... ever."

Elladan smiled gently. Such almost preternatural seriousness in so young an Elf. Yet he knew full well what humor and merriment she was capable of. A fascinating contradiction of traits in Thranduil's sole daughter, he mused.

"My tutors await me," Nimeithel sighed. "I must go." She half-turned to leave then stopped a moment to once more gaze at her brother and Elrohir. "They are very well matched, aren't they?" she commented.

Elladan glanced at them as well before looking back at her. "Aye, they are."

She nodded then walked away quickly, her small form soon swallowed up by the crowd on the yard's perimeter. Elladan watched her go then turned his attention back to the field when he heard a burst of laughter. Elrohir and Legolas were done with their contest and were now standing together, sharing some amusing tale.

They _are_ very well matched indeed, Elladan thought idly as their heads bent close together, their raven and wheaten locks contrasting wonderfully. In that instant, something struck him with heart stopping force and he was hard-pressed not to reveal his sudden disconcertment. They are not only well matched, he realized. They look absolutely _perfect_ together. The very idea took his breath away and he felt alarm mingle with the odd thrill that raced up his spine like a bolt of burning ice.

So taken was he by this unbidden insight, he did not notice that Elrohir and Legolas had ended their exchange and were walking back to rejoin him. As such, Legolas espied the look of wonder on his face before he had a chance to veil it.

"You look as if you just beheld Elbereth herself," the Elven prince remarked as he and Elrohir neared the older twin.

Even as he spoke, Elladan realized the impossibility of his vision. In Rivendell, yes, or Lórien or Lindon, such an occurrence would be of no consequence save in its political aspects mayhap. But in Eryn Galen... Despite the very rightness he had felt upon seeing them together, it simply could _not_ be. Not unless the Elves of the Woodland Realm chose to walk the ancient path once more and the Powers only knew if and when that might come to pass.

He shook his head and faintly smiled. "Nay, I was not blessed with so lofty a vision," he replied. "Say rather that I was momentarily touched by a most improbable... whim."

On that statement, he turned to lead the way back to the royal halls, pleased to leave both his brother and friend to look at each other in patent befuddlement.

Glossary:  
ethuil - Sindarin for spring  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

**Part 4:** By Hook or By Crook. Rating: M (Het)


	13. By Hook or By Crook

**Warning:** This is slash fiction with a smattering of het and many parts carry an M rating. If that is not your cup of tea, cease and desist right now. Go no further. Otherwise, welcome aboard and I do hope you enjoy reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Rating:** M for sexual content

**Characters:** Elrond/ Celebrían, Thranduil/OFC

**Summary:** Elrond and Thranduil discover there is more to strategy than meets the eye.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** This is a slight detour from the main storyline. I felt Elrond and Thranduil's relationships with their respective wives needed some attention. Not too much of a plot. Just wanted something short and sweet and a little spicy.

_**By Hook or By Crook**_  
_by Eressë_

Imladris, _Cermië_ T.A. 787  
Elrond glanced up then smiled as he caught Elladan yawning yet again. Flanking the older twin at the other end of the study stable, Elrohir and Legolas did not look much more awake. The Lord of Rivendell sympathized with them though he could not let them go just yet.

Legolas was a-visiting once more. Only, this time, his parents had come along. A recent and alarming surge in the orkish population of the Misty Mountains had convinced Thranduil that it was high time he came to the hidden vale to discuss matters of import with Elrond. In particular, the defense of their respective realms relative to the great mountain range that lay between them and the irksome denizens that constantly spawned in its deeps to plague them now and then. Thus, he'd accompanied Legolas on this latest trip to Rivendell and brought his wife, Ithilwen, for good measure.

The latter move had delighted Celebrían for the two Elf-ladies had become very close friends. United as much by their common interests as by their shared commiserations over their sons' infamous exploits, they oftentimes decried the distance between their lands that prohibited more frequent visits with each other. With their husbands closeted more oft than not either with Glorfindel and Thranduil's troop captain or with Erestor and Rivendell's other counsellors, discussing everything from patrol schedules and secure trade routes to strategy and logistics, they'd turned to each other for company.

The two lords were at it again this fine summer morn much to their sons' dismay. For they had been required to attend the meeting as much for their continued training as warriors and future leaders as for the fact that they would in most likelihood help carry out what was being discussed.

Neither the twins nor Legolas shirked duty when it was demanded of them and they were able students in all things military. But they were also still young, not yet past their first millennium, and therefore eager to enjoy the delights of the season while it lasted. Endless sessions over a period of several days dealing with naught but one subject was proving all too vexing for the ebullient trio and even more tedious as evidenced by Elladan's yawn.

Salvation came in the form of Thranduil's captain, the lovely but stern warrior maid, Tathariel. She came to the study to seek her king's counsel on some internal Greenwood matter that necessitated Thranduil's personal attention. With the Elvenking's exit from the study, Elrond finally took pity on his sons and their friend. What use was it to keep them when they would likely disgrace themselves by falling into slumber by the time Thranduil returned.

"You may go," he informed them abruptly. "Just stay out of trouble," he added at their relieved reactions.

They hurried out of the chamber before he could change his mind.

"Ai, I was about to fall asleep!" Elladan exclaimed.

"You were not alone," Elrohir assured him.

"But what shall we do now?" Legolas inquired. "'Tis a waste of a glorious day to stay indoors."

"I know what I would like," Elrohir announced. "A swim in the Bruinen."

Legolas grinned. "An excellent idea, _meldiren_."—my friend.

They were about to head for the main porch when Elladan pulled up short. "Wait!" he said. "Let us bring provisions with us! We can have a picnic after our swim."

Elrohir nodded. "Bread, cheese and fruit, I suppose?" he suggested.

"And drink," Elladan added. "Let us go and see what the wine cellar may yield."

Meanwhile, Elrond awaited Thranduil's return a little restively. He wondered if the king would take much longer. It was then that he noticed that the carafe of wine upon the small serving table by the window was nearly empty. Mayhap I should replenish it, he thought. It will take but a moment to get a new bottle.

Leaving the study, he made his way to the corridor leading to the wine cellar. As he walked down it, he espied Erestor at the far end, approaching him. He had the oddest expression on his face. In his hand he carried an object of indiscernible identity. Elrond frowned wonderingly.

When the steward neared him, he asked: "What is that you have in your hand, Erestor?"

"A casualty of war, you might say," the other Elf dryly replied. "'Tis the inner handle to the wine cellar door."

"A casualty?" Elrond's eyebrows rose in puzzlement at his advisor's peculiar choice of words.

"The _pin nith_"—young ones—"have gone to the Bruinen for a picnic," Erestor explained. "They took wine and ale with them. Do not ask me how they managed to break this off. I am still trying to make sense of their explanation."

Elrond sighed. It was a wonder Imladris had not yet come crumbling down around them.

"Are you going to the cellar?" Erestor asked him.

"Aye."

"Take care that you do not close the door for you will not be able to open it again from the inside."

"Thank you for the warning. But do get Lindir to repair it."

"Aye, 'tis my intention."

The two parted ways and Elrond proceeded to the cellar. He smiled ruefully when he saw the damaged door, which Erestor had left open. The heavy door swung inwards and, with its inner handle now gone, could effectively trap any careless enough to close it from inside. Ai, young Elves, he mused with a touch of exasperated humor. You never knew what they were capable of until they did it.

The wine cellar of the Last Homely House was dark and cool but airy. Torches in sconces on the walls illuminated the chamber. Here was the finest and most varied selection of wines and ales this side of the Misty Mountains. Elrond purposely made his way to a shelf at the far end of the cellar. It housed the shipment of fine dry whites that had just arrived from the south as well as the latest vintage of Imladrin miruvor.

He was busy trying to choose which bottle to bring back with him when he heard a low, sweet voice call his name.

"Elrond, _meleth_?"—love? "Are you in here?"

The Lord of Rivendell had to smile when he identified the owner of that voice. It never failed to brighten his day or lighten his spirits.

"Over here, Celebrían _nîn_, " he called. My Celebrían.

He peered around the shelf in time to see her enter the cellar. As she did so, she instinctively pulled at the door to close it behind her. The panel began to swing shut, its own weight increasing its momentum.

Elrond gasped. He hurried forward, yelling, "Don't close the—!"

The door slammed shut behind his wife. Elrond groaned. Celebrían stared at him in surprise.

"What is wrong?" she inquired.

Elrond approached and felt the seam between door and jamb. It was useless. There was not one uneven spot on which to get a grip with his fingers. There are times when elven perfection can be taken a little too far, the loremaster thought a little irritably.

"This is," he muttered showing her the door handle or rather the lack of it. With a resigned sigh, he said, "'Tis damaged. I fear we are trapped here, dearest."

Celebrían's blue eyes widened. "Oh," she murmured. "How—?"

"The _pin nith_."

His wife stared at him then nodded in comprehension. There was no need for further explanations.

oOoOoOo

Thranduil waited impatiently, wondering where Elrond was and what was taking him so long. He frowned. _Surely he did not grow tired of waiting and leave me just like that._

The door to the study opened and he swung around to question his host about his tardiness. But the dark-haired figure that entered the chamber was not Elrond Peredhel.

"Ithilwen!" The Elvenking was a little surprised to see his beauteous wife. "I thought you were with Celebrían."

"I was," Ithilwen smiled. "But she had to see to something and I decide to check on you." She looked around the study curiously. "Where is Elrond?"

"I have no idea," Thranduil admitted. "I had a word with Tathariel and when I returned he was gone." He frowned testily. "Indeed, he has been gone far longer than would be considered polite. I wonder if something has gone amiss elsewhere and called him away in turn."

"Mayhap you are right, _hervenn_"—husband—Ithilwen cooed. She had neared him and now ran a graceful hand over his chest down to his stomach. Without warning, Thranduil felt his body heat up. He stared at his wife. She smiled back at him, her hand continuing its leisurely meandering about his torso.

"What are you up to?' he asked suspiciously.

"Up to?" The grey eyes looked ever so innocent yet Thranduil could have sworn he saw a twinkle in their depths. "Is there something wrong with a wife pampering her dear lord and husband?"

As she spoke her hand moved lower and brushed his groin. The King gasped. He grabbed her wrist none-too-gently. "That is _not_ pampering!" he hissed as he felt that part of his body come to life.

"Then what is it?" she smiled sweetly.

oOoOoOo

Elrond groaned as Celebrían shifted deliciously above him. How they had ended up on the cellar floor, stitchless, with his wife riding him for dear life was something of a mystery to him. It seemed like only minutes ago that they were debating how best to get the attention of any Elf who might pass the cellar. The next thing he knew, they were kissing with fearsome abandon, their hands hurriedly tugging, unlacing and near tearing at each other's clothing.

Somehow, he'd managed to retain enough lucidity to throw his robe down upon the floor before bearing his wife down atop it. After that lucidity had vanished and he'd only had thought, if one could call it thought, for the flawless beauty that was offered up for his pleasure.

Their first coupling was fast and explosive, his completion nearly winding him as he found release within his silver lady's quivering body. Their second joining was slower but no less pleasurable. Celebrían had neatly turned the tables on him and now dictated the pace. Not that he was complaining. She had a most enthralling way of making him want her to take control.

The sight of his beloved writhing shamelessly and moaning helplessly as she succumbed to the throes of ecstasy was more than enough to undo him and he followed her into the sensual storm of their shared culmination. He caught her to him when she collapsed upon his chest. For several minutes, they lay quietly, waiting for their breaths to deepen once more.

"_Mîren_"—my treasure—Elrond murmured huskily at length. "Have I told you how exquisite you are?"

Celebrían laughed languidly. "Every day. But don't ever stop. I rather enjoy such praise from you."

He chuckled. "How can I stop when you grow ever more beautiful each day?"

She lifted her now tousled head. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure and she brushed her soft mouth against his.

"Keep talking like that and we may well end up staying here all morning," she teased.

A hand travelled down her graceful back and landed on her delectable bottom. He pressed down and she gasped when she felt the evidence of yet another arousal surge up against her.

"Again, _meleth_?" she whispered almost reverently. "Are you not... weary?"

Elrond growled: "Not in the least."

oOoOoOo

Thranduil did not know what needed his attention more. His wife who lay beneath him on Elrond's no longer neat table or the study door that might open any moment with the arrival of one Elf or another. Why didn't he take the time to bolt the confounded door? he wondered woozily. Come to think of it, how did they end up in so compromising a situation that necessitated the door's bolting in the first place?

Not that he could resist Ithilwen when she took things into her own hands. In this case, literally into her own hands. She'd coaxed him into the most heady kiss while all the while her nimble fingers had unlaced his breeches without his knowing. And then she started to stroke him. That had quite undone him. He was unable to protest, much less stop her caresses. And when she prettily slid down his tall frame to her knees and put her mouth to most effective use, he'd unraveled completely. But then, as she oft teased him, she may have been a maid when they first mated but her inquisitive mind had been far from chaste where he was concerned.

A few minutes later, he was panting erratically, having been drained quite efficiently by his lovely queen. He'd been incapable of doing anything save to stare at her in amazement. She'd then risen to her feet, looking at him with that particular expression that blatantly told him how magnificent he was. Desire and arousal came surging back in full.

His judgment clouded by lust, he'd caught her to him in a ravaging kiss. Without looking, he'd swept almost everything upon Elrond's desk off it and onto the floor and all but thrown Ithilwen onto the table, barely shoving her skirts up around her waist before burying himself within her. Now they were writhing against each other, hurrying towards completion.

Release came with tumultuous force and Thranduil swiftly sealed his mouth to his wife's to swallow her gasping cries and stifle his own feral groan of pleasure.

oOoOoOo

Elrond was just hitching up his breeches when a loud knock on the door nearly made him jump.

"My lord?" came Lindir's voice. "May I come in?"

"No, wait!" Elrond gasped. "We—"

"In a minute!" Celebrían called out calmly.

Her husband regarded her with surprise. She remained quite serene as they continued to dress.

"How can you be so composed when Lindir could have walked in on us?" he finally inquired.

"Oh, he would not have come in without asking first," she replied. "I told him to give us an hour at the very least."

Elrond stared at her, pausing in the middle of lacing his shirt. "_You—told—him?"_ he repeated.

"And I dare say Ithilwen instructed everyone to stay away from your study."

Elrond was too astounded to form a coherent response. Celebrían smiled, mischief dancing in her crystalline eyes.

"We came upon Erestor while he was telling Lindir about the door," she explained somewhat smugly. "You and Thranduil have neglected us frightfully these past many days. We thought this would be a most opportune moment to remind you of your husbandly duties." She patted her hair into place and called out to Lindir once more. "You may come in now, Lindir!"

The housemaster pushed open the door. To Elrond's disconcertment, he kept his eyes slightly averted as he entered as if he was prepared not to see what he was supposed not to see. Celebrían giggled.

"Thank you for waiting, Lindir," she sweetly said as she passed the minstrel.

Elrond followed her, his face still a picture of astonishment. He barely registered Lindir's amused grin.

oOoOoOo

The first thing he noticed when they entered the study was that Thranduil had returned and that he was not alone. The king was seated on the couch with his wife. He rose to make way for Celebrían.

"You certainly took your time, Peredhel," Thranduil remarked. He glanced curiously at Celebrían then eyed the slightly rumpled appearance of his host. "For good reason, I imagine," he added with a smirk.

Elrond could not help reddening a bit. "I only wished to replenish the wine," he defensively explained. "But the cellar door was damaged and we were locked in."

"_We?_" Thranduil raised a golden eyebrow. Glancing at Celebrían, his fine mouth broke into a wolfish grin.

Elrond's blush deepened. He was at a loss for words until he noticed his desk was no longer arranged the way he'd left it. In fact, he mused as he took a good, long look at Thranduil, the Elvenking was no longer arranged as he'd been either. His hair was somewhat tousled, the braids rather hastily redone and his shirt collar was just this side of askew. And was he imagining things or was the bodice of Ithilwen's gown a tad too loosely laced? He grinned wickedly in turn making Thranduil uneasy.

"I am pleased you managed to occupy yourself while I was gone," Elrond said silkily. "I trust my desk was comfortable enough?"

It was Thranduil's turn to flush. A duet of giggles accompanied his discomfiture.

"Oh, it did well enough, Elrond," Ithilwen said impishly. "Though I apologize if we disturbed anything overmuch."

Thranduil forgot his kingly dignity and goggled at her. Then he noted Celebrían's knowing demeanor and mischievous smile. He looked back at Elrond with dawning comprehension.

"Why do I get the feeling that we've just been royally duped?" he asked with some asperity.

"Because we were!" Elrond retorted.

The two turned to glower at their now laughing wives. Their glares had no effect whatsoever on the ladies. Thranduil shook his head in grudging admiration.

"Mayhap we should invite them to help us in our planning," he told Elrond with some humor. "They have a remarkable gift for strategy."

"Aye, they do," Elrond agreed. "'What say we send them with Glorfindel on his next patrol? That should take care of the Orcs for the next, oh, one hundred years or so."

Glossary:  
Cermië - Quenya for July  
Peredhel (sing.) – Half-elven/Half-elf

**Part 5:** Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning. Rating: M for violence and sexual situations


	14. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 1

**Warning:** This is slash fiction. If you cannot abide romantic or sexual relations between characters of the same gender, proceed no further.

**AN 1:** It seems not everyone read the header of the first story in this series wherein I explained that G&I was first posted on other sites two years ago. Hence some suggestions as to what sex acts to include or exclude as the case may be. Let me make a few clarifications about this. I will be toning down any explicit scenes to conform to FFnet's restrictions with regard to adult-rated stories. But I cannot at this very late date change the basic content of said scenes. Furthermore, while I am very much aware of the sexual practices of gay men, having done thorough research on them and having read more than my fair share of homoerotic literature, I would like to remind one and all that this is fan _and_ fantasy fiction and the characters involved are not human. This is the lynchpin on which I based any sexual acts between them – since they aren't human, they do not necessarily fall under the same physical laws that govern humans. But I won't go into further detail here since this will be taken up in later stories.

**AN 2:** The events of this story take place around the time the shadow first fell upon Eryn Galen or Greenwood the Great. The name Mirkwood would presumably only have come into usage quite recently and so I still frequently refer to the forest by its original name.

**Rating:** M for violence and sexual situations

**Summary:** Legolas faces the first great tragedy in his life and is unable to cope with its aftermath.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _Lotessë_ T.A. 1052  
Elrond and his family were just settling down in the Hall of Fire after the evening meal when the messengers from Greenwood arrived. Informed that the Wood-elves had begged for an immediate audience with the Imladrin lord, Elrond had excused himself and left to meet with Thranduil's emissaries. Nearly three-quarters of an hour passed before he returned to the hall and his expression was such that his wife and children stared at him in alarm.

"Dearest, what is wrong?" Celebrían exclaimed as her husband sagged into the nearest chair and wearily covered his face with one hand.

"_Melethen_"—my love—he murmured and beckoned to her to come to him. To the others' worsening apprehension, he pulled her onto his lap when she complied and held her as if to shield her from some great calamity.

"Elrond?" she queried, stroking his dark hair. "Please, husband, you are frightening all of us. What was Thranduil's message?"

Elrond heaved a shuddering sigh then glanced around at the others. The twins and Arwen were watching him with obvious agitation while Glorfindel, Erestor and Almáriel tried to remain calm but with little success.

"A band of brigands entered Eryn Galen some two months ago," he began. "Ithilwen and Nimeithel were out riding with a few warriors in attendance. They encountered the scoundrels and there was a skirmish when the men saw the women's jewelry." He stopped and hugged his wife even more tightly. "There were too many of these bandits and Ithilwen and Nimeithel were taken captive."

There was a concerted gasp of horror.

"They weren't—" Elladan began, his face draining of color at the very thought of the Elven queen and her daughter in the rapacious hands of thieving men.

Elrond shook his head. "Nay, thank the Powers, they were spared that horror. Legolas gave chase at once and caught up with the band. But..." He looked at his wife, his eyes haunted. "...he was too late to keep them from slaying Ithilwen."

Appalled silence greeted his announcement. Celebrían stared in shocked disbelief at her husband. She had been close to the woodland queen and corresponded regularly with Ithilwen in between each other's visits to their respective realms. She tried to speak, to deny what had been said but no words would come out. And then she suddenly buried her face in Elrond's neck and began to weep silently, her slender shoulders shaking in her grief. Elrond could only hold her consolingly.

"Thranduil is devastated," he continued dully. "'Tis a wonder he even managed to give thought to informing us of this tragedy."

"And Nimeithel?" Elladan inquired. "Are they certain she was not... touched?"

Elrond nodded. "Legolas came upon them before they had done more than divest the women of their valuables." He hesitated. "Ithilwen was slain when she fought their attempts to despoil her and Nimeithel."

"Elbereth," Elladan whispered. Beside him, Arwen trembled violently and was promptly enfolded in a motherly hug by Almáriel.

"Thranduil requests a... meeting with me regarding... the aftermath of the incident," Elrond added slowly.

"What of Legolas?" Elrohir frowningly queried. "How did he take his mother's death?"

Elrond glanced up at his younger son, surprised by his intuitiveness. "Strange that you should ask," he remarked. "'Twas the main reason for Thranduil's request that I go to Greenwood."

"What do you mean?"

"The messengers were not clear on this but I received the distinct impression that Legolas was greatly affected by the incident." He looked from one twin to the other. "'Twas he who was on patrol that week and he who had assured the queen that 'twould be safe to leave the boundaries of their kingdom. And despite his best efforts the leaders of the band managed to escape."

Elrohir hissed in instant comprehension. "He blames himself, doesn't he," he said with a certainty born of his knowledge of the prince's character.

"It would seem so," Elrond admitted. "I cannot be certain. The messengers were reticent on that matter."

"We must go at once, _Ada_"—Papa—Elrohir declared.

"Nay, that I cannot allow," Glorfindel abruptly said. "The mountains are too perilous to cross at present; 'tis a miracle that Thranduil's messengers made it here without incident. Furthermore, Orcs have been running wild, ravaging settlements and villages as they go." At the mutinous expression on Elrohir's face, he pointed out firmly: "We are under siege ourselves in a manner of speaking. Thranduil will understand that we must protect Imladris first. We will be of no use to Legolas or anyone else if we are overrun from lack of caution or foresight."

"Glorfindel is right," Elrond softly agreed. "Much as I long to leave this very night for Eryn Galen, I must admit it would be foolhardy to do so. And there have been reports of banditry by men and orcs amongst the villages just beyond the Bruinen. 'Tis our duty to assist those who cannot defend themselves."

Elrohir sighed vexedly and sat back with a dark scowl. Erestor placed a pacifying hand on his shoulder. "If we turn all our efforts to dealing with our foes, we will vanquish them all the sooner and be free to go to Eryn Galen," he reminded the recalcitrant twin.

The Elf-knight looked at him then nodded and persisted no more. Elrond cast a grateful glance at his chief steward before turning his attention to his grieving wife.

Glossary:  
Lotessë - Quenya for May

_To be continued_…


	15. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 2

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
Eryn Galen, _Cerveth_ T.A. 1052  
Nearly two months passed after they'd received the news of Ithilwen's death before Elrond and his wife and the twins were able to go to the Woodland Realm. Just as an incursion by brigands had claimed the queen's life, so had similar incidents with both men and Orcs threatened the borders of Rivendell and the haven's neighbors. They'd had to see to the business of securing their own realm first and the safety of their people.

It was a far different place from the dense but wholesome forest they'd once known. A shadow was now upon it, encroaching slowly but surely upon the Wood-elves' lands. It was easy to understand why men had began to call the forest Mirkwood and even easier to see how bandits or Orcs could have escaped the Elves' vigilance. Evil of unknown origins was at work against Thranduil's people and if not for their valor, strength and cunning, they might have been overcome at the very start of this creeping pestilence their green wood suffered from.

As they traveled the elven path, they came upon the remains of the outlaws Legolas and his scouts had captured. The corpses had been strung from the trees as a warning to other trespassers, a grisly signpost that spoke of the extremes Thranduil's people had been driven to. The Wood-elves as a rule were not given to such hostile tactics but the fate of their beloved queen hung heavily upon them all. At any rate, it seemed their newfound animosity to humans was effective; men now hesitated to enter Greenwood as much from fear of the Elves' retribution as from the rumors of the growing darkness within.

It was with some relief that they found the Woodland Realm itself still untouched by the malaise that blighted the rest of Eryn Galen. For how long nobody could say but all prayed the Silvan Elves would withstand this latest threat to their well-being and security.

They were welcomed at the doors of the royal halls by a sorrowful royal family. Even Melthoron shed his arrogance and antagonism in his grief, gaining Elladan and Elrohir's compassion for the first time in their oft-fractious acquaintance. They spoke consolingly to him and Brethildor and spared even more comfort for Nimeithel who had known the terror of being in the bandits' clutches and actually witnessed her mother's killing. But it was Legolas who drew the most concern from Elrond's sons. The youngest prince's welcome was understandably subdued but something else lurked in his blue eyes. Something neither twin could discern but which made both feel vaguely alarmed.

oOoOoOo

Thranduil told them everything that very day. The details of the first skirmish and the abduction of his queen and daughter. The rescue that had ended in tragedy. And Legolas' continued refusal to absolve himself of blame. That was the crux of the matter; the main reason the Elvenking had requested a visit from Elrond. Nimeithel was slowly recovering from the trauma of her experience but Legolas was not. If anything his state of mind seemed to be deteriorating if what he had done since Ithilwen's death was any indication. Already there was talk that the youngest prince was going mad.

"That is utter rubbish!" Elrohir exclaimed, outraged that anyone should even think thusly about his friend. "Who dares spread such slanderous tales about him?"

"Peace, _ion nîn_"—my son—Elrond quietly reproved. "'Tis only loose talk."

"Loose talk is oft mistaken for truth when it has been around long enough," the Elf-knight retorted, clenching a hand. "I will not have Legolas demeaned by unthinking gossips!"

Elladan placed a restraining hand on his twin's wrist. "It will not hold," he said. "Legolas is much too beloved of the people for such a tale to last long enough to be taken for truth."

"Nevertheless, Elrohir is right," Thranduil unexpectedly concurred. "'Tis debasing talk and sullies my son's honor. If any were to get back to him, it would only further undermine what little peace of mind he still possesses." He glanced at Elrond. "I had hoped you would know how to help him considering your reputation as a healer."

Elrond nodded. "I will do everything in my power to help him," he said. "But I warrant it will take an inordinate length of time to heal his spirit. And your son has never been a cooperative patient. Which begs the question. Will he allow us to get close enough to effect any kind of cure?"

"Us?"

"Aye, Thranduil, my whole family. Particularly my sons. I cannot do this alone. For anything to happen, Legolas will have to put his trust in others first and we have long acknowledged that he trusts my sons above all others save for yourself mayhap."

"You speak truly," the Elvenking conceded. "But if he trusts the twins so much why do you wonder if he will let them get close to him?"

"Because he seemed... distant with us when we greeted him," Elladan took up the tale. "He has never been so restrained with us before. I fear he does not welcome our company in this matter."

Elrohir shook his head emphatically. "Nay, _muindor_"—brother—"if Legolas behaved thusly with us, 'tis not because he did not desire our company. Rather he is shamed by what he perceives as his egregious failure and therefore thinks himself unworthy of our regard. His reserve was not born of dislike for us but of his sense of disgrace."

The others stared at him. Elrond smiled faintly.

"My ever insightful Elf-knight," he remarked. "I had forgotten how well you know Legolas. And as such I am fully inclined to agree with your evaluation of his behavior."

"As am I," Elladan added. "I am an idiot three times over not to have thought of that." He regarded his twin fondly. "But then as _Adar_"—"Father—put it, you know him very well; better than anybody else, I dare say."

"Be that as it may, what can we do for him?" Elrohir directed them back to the meat of the matter. "We must heal him soonest before he breaks under the strain of this malady."

"We will help him," Elrond assured his younger son. "But before we can do so, he must be willing to be helped." He looked at Thranduil. "From your account, it seems he has kept everyone at bay. Even his own family."

Thranduil nodded. "He became even more remote after the incident with Brethildor."

"What about Mithrael and Heledir?" Elladan inquired, referring to Legolas' childhood friends.

The king shook his head. "He allowed them to console him for a space but nothing more. He soon retreated from them as well." He looked helplessly at the Imladrin lord, an expression so unusual for the masterfully confident king that it unsettled the others. "I am at my wits' end, Elrond. I fear daily for his sanity. I fervently pray he will open up to your sons at the very least."

"As we all do," the loremaster said. "But for now, allow us to observe him. Mayhap his demeanor will provide us with more clues as to what will be the best course of action to take with him."

After Thranduil gave his acquiescence, Celebrían stirred. She had not said a word throughout the discussion but now she softly said: "And what of you, Thranduil? How are you coping with your loss?"

The Elvenking started at her words. Until then he'd not spoken to them of his own grief, so involved was he in the problem of his youngest son.

"I miss her dreadfully," he said heavily. "But I am consoled by the knowledge that she did not suffer overmuch before her death," he added, visibly striving to control his emotions. "Had they succeeded in their intent against her..." He stopped and suddenly shuddered. They were all overcome by the naked anguish in the proud blue eyes. "Not that it would have mattered to me had they done so," the Elvenking whispered brokenly. "I would not have cared if only I could still have her by my side today. But she would not have borne such a dishonor to herself. She would have faded had she survived. I still would have lost her." His voice caught at the last and he began to weep.

Celebrían swiftly rose from her seat and took the widowed king into her warm arms. She spoke no words but simply held him and allowed him to vent his grief against her shoulder.

oOoOoOo

The following day, Thranduil led his guests to his queen's green grave. The only other Elves in attendance were his children and some of his late wife's kin. Celebrían openly wept over the flower-bedecked mound. She and Ithilwen had been almost like the siblings neither had. She sang a sweet and haunting song for her friend, letting the wind carry the lyrics and the music west over the mountains and across the plains beyond to the shores of Middle-earth and thereby over sea to the Blessed Realm where the queen's spirit now abided in the Halls of Awaiting. This last gift to Ithilwen brought a measure of peace and comfort to her bereaved family. All that is except one.

Elrond frowned as he observed Thranduil's youngest son. Legolas kept apart from his family, his face stony, his eyes blank and staring. When one or the other of his mother's kinsmen attempted to comfort him, he would flinch and shrink from their touch.

The Lord of Rivendell was doubly troubled by the prince's conduct. Despite Thranduil's warning from the day before, he was still not prepared to witness firsthand the young Elf's altered behavior. This simply was not right. Legolas was the most affectionate of Thranduil's sons, the most accepting of affection and friendship in return. This cold, withdrawn demeanor was glaringly uncharacteristic of him.

Movement to his right caught his eyes and he turned his head. Elladan and Elrohir had detached themselves from the party of Rivendell Elves and crossed over to where the royal family gathered. Elrond exchanged a glance with his wife.

Curious stares followed the twins' progress as they walked to Legolas, flanking him when they reached him. Elrond watched the prince closely. Legolas did not cringe from his sons' proximity, did not move to distance himself from the brethren.

Elladan raised a hand to the archer's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. At Legolas' other side, Elrohir took the prince's hand in his warm grip and held it, stroking the latter's palm soothingly with his thumb. The prince neither flinched nor spurned their touch. After a while, he trembled visibly then leaned against Elrohir, as if in need of support. The younger twin immediately threw a protective arm around him. At the same time, Legolas blindly reached out his free hand to Elladan. The older twin quickly took it and held it fast.

Elrond glanced at Thranduil. The Elvenking had not failed to notice his son's acceptance of the brethren's loving attention when he had rejected all others, even those of his own kin. Thranduil looked in the healer's direction. Their eyes met. In that one swift exchange, they came to an understanding regarding the Woodland Realm's youngest prince. By nightfall, Thranduil informed his son that he would depart with the Imladrin party a fortnight hence and that he was to stay in Rivendell until Elrond released him from his care.

Legolas submitted to his father's decision with troubling meekness and a distinct lack of enthusiasm. That in itself was alarming. Ever had the prince looked forward to every visit to Rivendell though he was recalcitrant enough to take due umbrage at being ordered there precipitately. Yet now he accepted Thranduil's decree unquestioningly and set about preparing for an extended stay in the vale with all the excitement of a sloth. Needless to say, his strange conduct disquieted the twins though they were already well informed of its cause.

Watching Legolas listlessly pack his personal effects a few days before their departure, they wondered what would rouse their friend out of his self-imposed isolation. In an effort to dispel some of the prince's gloom, Elrohir quietly said: "We sympathize with you in your loss, Legolas. But, if it is any comfort to you, I would remind you that this sundering is not forever. She will be granted rebirth soonest for so gentle and kind a soul as your mother would surely be released from the Halls of Awaiting ere too long."

With shocking suddenness, the prince turned on him, eyes flashing furiously. "And what good will that do any of us when a whole ocean separates these lands from Aman! Spare me your empty condolences, Elrohir!"

Shocked silence greeted this muted eruption. Legolas returned to his packing, his body vibrating with barely suppressed anger. And then Elladan's tight rebuke pierced the uncomfortable quiet.

"Elrohir meant no offense and only sought to ease your pain," he pointed out, controlled ire edging his words.

The prince stopped and glanced at the younger twin. Elrohir's face was impassive but his eyes revealed some of the hurt Legolas' unwarranted reaction had evoked though he strove to conceal it. Legolas flushed guiltily.

"I am sorry, Elrohir," he murmured contritely.

The Elf-knight regarded him gravely for a space. "Your temper is understandable for you are overwrought in your grief," he said at length. "You had no need for platitudes."

Legolas felt his shame deepen at the darkling Elf's remarkable forbearance. "Mayhap not platitudes," he whispered. "But I need the friend who uttered them evermore."

The twilight eyes glittered with argent fire. "You have me, Calenlass," he declared soothingly. "You have both of us. Always."

He took no notice of his brother's sharp, observant stare. His concern lay with the golden-haired Elf whose spirit was so deplorably distressed that he would speak with such reckless inconsiderateness to his closest friends.

Glossary:  
Cerveth - Sindarin for July  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	16. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 3

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
Imladris, _Urimë_ T.A. 1052  
Legolas ran water into a tub in the bathing rooms. They had arrived in Rivendell just in time for the evening meal. Immediately after dinner, he'd asked leave to go to his bedchamber. His request had been granted but Elrond had suggested he take a hot bath to relax himself before attempting to settle in for the night.

It was a sensible suggestion. Legolas had not had a decent night's sleep during the entire journey from Mirkwood to the hidden vale. Not even his waking dreams had brought him enough respite to revive his flagging spirit. Indeed, he had not had a decent night's sleep or restful reverie since... He resolutely pushed the memory from his mind. It was precisely what had plagued him these past many months. What had prompted his father to place him in Elrond's benign custody.

As he shed his clothes, he thought back a little guiltily to his recent behavior toward the twins. They had been most patient with him from the first day in Mirkwood all the way through the trip over the mountains to Imladris, stoically enduring his taciturn behavior, his tendency to snap at them even for the least provocation and his refusal to let them give him adequate comfort for his bereavement. Elrohir especially had been almost painfully understanding, refusing to let the prince's dark moods affect him to the point of losing his temper even when said dark moods led the prince to insult or offend him more oft than not. Legolas flushed uncomfortably.

It was easy to pick on Elrohir. The younger twin was so open with him, put so much trust in him that he hid nothing from Legolas, not even his most grievous faults. Consequently, the archer had a veritable arsenal of verbal weapons he could employ against the Elf-knight if he so chose. Regrettably, he had and though he'd also been quick to apologize each time he'd hurt his friend, it did not change the fact that Elrohir had done nothing whatsoever to merit such treatment nor did it lessen the reprehensiveness of repeatedly breaking the darkling Elf's trust by using his own confidences against him. But Elrohir remained steadfast, even defending him against a naturally indignant Elladan on several occasions.

Legolas sighed. There lay the difference between his respective relationships with the twins. They were both close to him, so close that in the century just past, they had taken him in as their sworn brother. He had counted it an honor and privilege that they should deem him as dear to them as their own sister to name him their _gwador_, or sworn brother. But Elrohir had proven the less reticent in his affections, the more perceptive and accommodating of the prince's needs, always ready and willing to accept his flaws and still love him in spite of them.

Coupled with Elladan's equally caring though less resounding regard, Legolas felt so complete that he found he did not crave the company of others when the twins were around. He had to admit that he thrived under such tender handling. After all, he rarely if ever received the like from his own brothers and the attentions of his sister simply were not the same as those one might expect from male siblings.

_Yet I dare to mistreat them when all they desire is to help me. I must school my unruly ways lest I lose their love and that I cannot bear_.

He stepped into the sunken bath, sat down in one embrasure and leaned against the tiled back. He closed his eyes and let the comforting warmth of the bath steal over him. Lord Elrond was right. The steaming water was helpful. If only he could banish the thoughts that sought to invade his peace. Even now, as he tried to unwind and keep his mind blank, upsetting memories tried to snake their way into his consciousness, threatening to thwart his efforts. He heaved a frustrated sigh as he felt his tension returning.

He was startled out of his inner struggle when sudden movement before him snared his senses. His eyes snapped open in time to see Elrohir slide into the water and settle himself opposite the prince. The twin was studying him with concern.

"Elladan and I swore to watch over you," he explained in answer to the archer's unspoken question.

Legolas peered at him somewhat vexedly. "Even in my bath?" he queried with caustic crispness.

Elrohir shrugged, disregarding his friend's less than welcoming tone. "Whatever it takes," he replied.

"And are you going to camp out in my bedchamber as well?" Legolas asked a little angrily.

Elrohir remained annoyingly composed. "Nay, Elladan has volunteered to do that," he replied evenly.

Legolas let out an exasperated breath. "What is this? A conspiracy? I am no child in need of babysitters!"

"Of course not," Elladan agreed as he entered the chamber, carrying a tray upon which reposed a crystal phial and a few small ceramic bowls. "You are an Elf in need of friends and that's what we are."

He knelt by the bath and poured the contents of some of the bowls into the water. A fragrant scent filled the air as the herbs mingled with the bath water. Elladan then emptied the remaining bowls into the bath as well and the aroma of spices soon joined the delicious herb-scented steam. Legolas breathed it in appreciatively and suddenly realized that the herbs and spices, when combined, provided a wonderfully soothing effect on his body and senses.

He could now regard his friends with a little more amiability, his good humor restored. "I am sorry for snapping at you earlier," he told the younger twin, conscious of the inadequacy of his apology. Yet another in an embarrassingly long line of requests for forgiveness.

"No need to apologize, Calenlass," Elrohir replied.

"But you did not have to get in with me," Legolas could not help adding. "Surely you do not think you have to bathe me as well."

Elrohir smiled and shook his head. "'Tis not the reason I joined you," he said as he took the now unstoppered phial from his brother. Elladan rose to his feet and left the chamber. Legolas stared in apprehension as Elrohir moved toward him purposefully. "Turn around, _ernilen_."—my prince.

Legolas hesitated then did as he was bid. Looking over his shoulder, he watched curiously as Elrohir poured a small amount of what looked like oil into his palm, placed the phial on the edge of the bath, then rubbed his hands together. The oil had a mild, rather fruity scent. Legolas almost jumped when he felt the other's hands move over his back in firm, muscle-easing strokes.

By Elbereth, that really feels good, he thought with pleasure as the skillful fingers moved down the length of his back, seeking and soothing tight muscles along the way. He glanced up as Elladan returned bearing a goblet of mulled wine. This, the older twin handed to him.

"_Sogo sen_," he ordered. Drink this.

Legolas slowly sipped the heated wine while Elrohir kneaded his right shoulder and arm, smoothing the kinks from the joints, easing the tension from the muscles. Trying to fight off the sudden languor that threatened to overtake him, he glanced quizzically at Elrohir. The twin, intent on his task, only spared him the briefest glance in reply.

"Why here?" he asked. "Could you not have waited until after my bath?"

Elrohir smiled as he poured more oil into his palm and began working on the prince's left arm. "If you were merely tired, aye, I would have waited. But you are not only bone-weary, you are also unusually tense and ill-humored, lack sleep and are altogether in a state of great distress."

Elladan grinned at his twin's succinct description of the prince. "The combination of massage and healing bath works wonders, Legolas. You will sleep well tonight, we guarantee it."

"And will you stay in my chambers to guard my slumber?" Legolas scowled. Unexpectedly, he yawned, then blinked at the older twin in surprise.

"Mayhap I won't have to," Elladan chuckled. "My brother's efforts seem to be working all too well."

"Indeed they are," Legolas admitted ruefully. "I do not recall being this eager for bed in the longest time!"

Elrohir replied: "Then I count my efforts well worth it." Legolas did not have to see his face to know he was smiling. "Turn around, Legolas. Just a little more then it's off to bed with you."

Legolas could only nod sleepily as he complied. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the younger twin's attentions to his torso. It was the most relaxing massage he'd ever experienced. He could not remember anything quite like it. He distantly heard the twins' soft banter as Elrohir finished his task.

"Ai, we will end up carrying him to his chamber," Elladan chuckled. "I think he is already asleep."

"Well, that is what we wanted," Elrohir said, gratified. "Hand me the towel, _gwanur_."

Together they helped him out of the bath. He was vaguely conscious of Elrohir patting him dry while Elladan ran a comb through his hair until the damp locks fell in a smooth stream of silver gold. He managed to rouse himself long enough to allow Elrohir to dress him in a thin robe.

"Can you walk, Legolas?" the Elf-knight queried.

"Hmmm?"

Muffled laughter greeted his mumbled response. "That certainly answers your question," Elladan chortled. "Can you manage him?"

"Easily," Elrohir replied.

Legolas felt a slight shock when the younger twin lifted him in his arms as he would a child. "Put me down, Elrohir!" he protested drowsily. "I can walk."

"Of course you can," the other Elf answered humorously. "But we should like to get you into your bed before the night ends so shut up and let me carry you to your room."

Surrendering to the sweet pull of sleep, Legolas made no further utterances but nestled into his friend's arms and allowed himself to be borne to his chamber. There they tucked him into bed as tenderly as they would a babe before departing for their own rooms.

oOoOoOo

He could not complain about the days that followed. As with all his visits to Rivendell, there was invariably something to occupy him; the twins made sure of that. They wore him out with riding, climbing, trekking and swimming as well as less physically demanding endeavors such as mind-games, art and music and even the simple but pleasurable pastime of reading.

Arwen, too, threw herself into entertaining him though her forms of distraction were distinctly feminine in nature. Since Legolas did not have the heart to reject her efforts, he perforce found himself in the kitchen ineptly rolling dough for pastry, struggling not to get hopelessly entangled whilst laboring at the loom, or helping the Elf-maiden prune Lady Celebrían's prize roses in the flower garden by the summerhouse. Celebrían was seen to offer prayers of supplication to the Valar on these occasions and once even apologized to her beloved roses for subjecting them to such abuse. Mayhap the Powers heard her prayers or perhaps a Wood-elf's affinity with nature's plant-life extended even to cultivated ones for, surprisingly, the roses survived and even thrived under his care much to the lady's relief.

Yes, he could not complain. Not really. Except for one thing.

Elrond forbade any activity of a martial nature and refused to rescind the ban even after the archer pleaded with him to reconsider. Therefore, he was not permitted to join the brethren when either or both led patrols out of Rivendell and even practice in sword or knife-play or hand-to-hand combat was judiciously curtailed.

He chafed at the decree, deplored the instances he was forced to spend in quieter pastimes especially when it meant separation from both twins at the same time. For the high-spirited Greenwood prince, such days were deemed deathly boring as his ebullience did not exactly go well with reserved Erestor or the rest of Elrond's counsellors whom he considered rather on the stodgy side. And while Glorfindel and Lindir were more to his liking personality-wise, neither could spare as much time as the twins did to keep their guest happily occupied. But he could not oppose Elrond on the matter; not when his own father had made it clear that he was to obey the Imladrin lord to the letter no matter how personally odious he might find the latter's decisions to be.

And so the days passed into a month and the month became two and then three and time went by without any incident of note. Or discernible progress. For despite the twins' considerable exertions, Legolas kept his feelings and thoughts reined in. He still did not mourn his mother's passing, did not confide in them the horror and grief he had known upon discovering her death, did not deviate from the disturbing pattern of erratic mood swings as he alternated between bouts of uncharacteristic snappishness, melancholic reticence and ghastly cheer.

This last was the most troubling of all for it was so patently false and forced it grated on everyone's nerves. It was all they could do not to shake him in frustration when he put on yet another smile that did not reach his eyes or uttered a jest that bore no relation to true merriment. And they would fervently wish once more that the archer would finally give in and express the bottled up emotions that fairly seethed within him. Yet the twins knew better than to force the issue. They would have to let time do its work. Time and, hopefully, their own diligence as they waited out the insidious effects of their friend's affliction.

Meanwhile, they continued as they were, keeping him company, offering solace if he should ever seek it and stealthily checking on him in his sleep each night, never alone but with each other or some other male member of the household. Of this particular service the woodland prince remained blissfully and perhaps mercifully oblivious.

Glossary:  
Urimë – Quenya for August  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

_To be continued_…


	17. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 4

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
_Hisimë_ T.A. 1052  
One bracingly cool morning Legolas looked out his window in time to espy Elladan and Glorfindel and several warriors apparently preparing to depart. His room overlooked the stables and the thickly wooded hills beyond, a view he favored while in Rivendell. He frowned thoughtfully as he observed them moving about, slinging packs onto their steeds. It was evident they would be gone for an extended length of time. There could be no doubt about it. The older twin and Rivendell's captain were taking a troop out on errantry. That was unusual considering the time of the year. Only the most urgent of reasons would necessitate such venturing this late in the season.

He turned from the window for a moment when Elrohir entered his chamber bearing missives from his family in Eryn Galen before returning his regard to Elladan and the Elven warriors. The younger twin noted his interest in the activity below his window and frowned slightly.

"Where are Elladan and Glorfindel heading?" Legolas asked, his eyes riveted on the scene outside.

"They are going to investigate reports of brigands in the east," Elrohir replied.

"East?"

"Aye, and they are steadily moving westward towards our territory."

"A large band?"

"Large enough to cause much grief amongst their victims. They are not familiar to us. Glorfindel suspects they came over the Misty Mountains. The few who were slain in encounters in the villages that fought back carried booty from as far as Dale."

Legolas' frown deepened. "Indeed," he murmured.

He felt Elrohir's hand clap firmly on his shoulder.

"Do not even think of joining them," the twin tersely said. "You cannot leave Imladris unless _Adar_ gives you permission to do so."

Legolas scowled. "It seems I don't have much of a choice," he muttered.

Elrohir peered at him suspiciously. "Give me your word that you won't try to leave, Legolas," he insisted.

Sapphire eyes flashed in annoyance but the twin stood his ground. Legolas sighed and said: "I promise." When Elrohir still looked at him warily, he added testily: "I gave you my word. Surely you trust me."

Elrohir hesitated then nodded. "Very well," he said. "I will see you at the midday meal then." He made to leave then glanced back at his friend. "I do trust you, Calenlass," he reminded the prince. And then he left the room.

oOoOoOo

The Imladrin patrol set up camp in a wooded area close to the last village the brigands had pillaged. The smoking ruins of several cottages and the still shocked countenances of the inhabitants attested to the recentness of the attack. It stood to reason that the bandits, lacking the near-supernatural fleetness and evasiveness of Elves, would not have gotten far.

While he and Glorfindel awaited the reports of their scouts, Elladan took a moment to be alone, leaning against a slender beech to gaze at the night sky. As always he sought out his grandsire's bright light for Eärendil had always been as much a beacon of hope and familial affection to him as it was the Elves' most beloved star.

It was a cold November evening with mist curling its icy tendrils around the trees and thickly carpeting the chill ground; of no matter to the Elves but, hopefully, detrimental enough to slow down the human band of scoundrels they were hunting. The Elf-warrior did not let misplaced pride lead him to disdain any advantage given them.

He pondered the problem of his woodland friend. What would it take to get Legolas to let go? He and Elrohir had tried just about everything to coax the prince into venting his so obviously repressed feelings. It was perturbing that even Elrohir hadn't yet breached the archer's well-entrenched defenses. That was so rare an occurrence as to be nearly non-existent and therefore cause for considerable dismay.

Thoughts of his twin led to another series of conjectures. Was he the only one who had as yet marked Elrohir's conduct of late? Nay, not even of late, the Elf-warrior mused. It has been there from the start yet he denies my allegations, chides me for even suggesting that... He let out a frustrated exhalation. Useless to think about that now. It would only distract him from the task at hand.

He was about to straighten up when a slender figure appeared out of the ephemeral whiteness, a rakish gleam in its eyes. Elladan went still as the other Elf approached. It was Helmir, a warrior he'd had occasion to keep bed-company with. Wordlessly, the Elven swordsman pressed closer, effectively trapping the twin against the beech. For a moment, they stared at each other and then the newcomer closed his lips upon Elladan's. For a few moments, they remained thus, quietly enjoying the sensations of this unlooked for pleasure. And then Helmir drew away, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Elladan chuckled softly at the other Elf's audacity. Though he kept intimate company far more often with women, the older twin very much relished his dalliances with Elves of his kind, particularly fellow soldiers. There was a peculiar piquancy in bedding an Elf who had faced the same rigors and perils as he, an undeniable thrill in taking one who was of equal strength and valor. It was an experience one did not find with females, not even amongst the warrior maids of Lórien and Greenwood. For some, it could be so addictive as to impel them to forswear the company of the gentler sex evermore.

"You are presumptuous, Helmir," he remarked, the sensual lilt of his voice blunting the sting of his words.

Helmir grinned. "Nay, I merely thought to give you some ease, my lord. As I had the pleasure of doing in the past."

Elladan captured his gaze and held it. The smoldering depths in the twin's eyes were enough to undo any being, more so one who had previously known far more than those eyes. Helmir lost some of his composure under that blue-tinged stormy regard.

"Aye, so you did," Elladan drawled. "I remember your attentions quite well, so accommodating were you of my wishes."

Slight color touched the cheeks of the other warrior at the Elvenlord's provocative utterance. "I can still be... most accommodating... if that would please you, my lord," he managed to say.

Elladan smiled, taking pity on the warrior. The Elf was quite young in comparison; only into his fifth century or so. Besides, his body heartily approved of such an exercise and with so malleable a partner as Helmir.

"'Tis not the most opportune time or place for bed-play," he murmured, tracing a random route with his hand up his companion's thigh to its culmination at the groin. His smile grew more predatory at the involuntary hiss that elicited. "However, I would not be averse to a night's indulgence with you once we return to Imladris."

"Only _a_ night, my lord?" Helmir had to clamp down savagely on his fast burgeoning need.

Again that soft, dangerous chuckle. "Mayhap more. 'Tis been long since I tasted male-flesh." He suddenly snaked a hand around the other Elf and hauled him close for a demanding kiss that left them both looking forward to a speedy return to the valley.

But even in the midst of such heady pleasures, Elladan did not let his guard down and he abruptly broke off the caress, his ears picking up the all but silent footfalls of Glorfindel and the scouts. By the time they came upon him and Helmir, there was no evidence of their earlier ardor.

The scouts had welcome news. They had located the brigands. The men had holed up in an all but abandoned settlement just a few miles northeast of their position.

oOoOoOo

They fell upon the band with all the ferocity of their Noldorin blood, tempered only by their adherence to the elven principles that demanded a modicum of humaneness towards even the most knavish of men. Only the orcs were never accorded this severely limited mercy. It was beyond the Elves to deal civilly with Morgoth's foul creations.

As he plunged into the fray, Elladan, true to his training under Glorfindel, took swift appraisal of their people that he might know each and every warrior's whereabouts. Thus, he was taken aback by the unexpected addition of another Elf. The flash of silver-gold hair stunned him so greatly that, but for his mercifully superb reflexes, he might have been skewered by the man he grappled with.

Quickly dispatching his opponent with a belly-ripping stroke, he turned and shouted: "Legolas!" He savagely struck down another brigand as he forced his way to the prince's side. "What in Arda are you doing here?" he bellowed when he neared the archer.

"What do you think?" Legolas yelled back. His eyes were aglow, almost brilliantly so, with the exultant light of battle. His white-hilted long knife was but a blur in his masterful hands as he gutted one man and nearly took the head off a second, so long and deep was the gash he delivered to the outlaw's throat.

Elladan had no more time to question his friend as more men came at him. Valar, he thought grimly, they have managed to recruit far more members to their lawless cause than we suspected. He dealt with his foes swiftly enough. A few surrendered abruptly upon sighting the menacing gleam in his eyes, throwing down their weapons and cowering in dread before so fell an enemy. Through the corner of his eyes, he espied one man breaking away and fleeing the melee.

The man was fast but his pursuer was faster. With frightening single-mindedness, Legolas overtook him before he had sprinted more than a few feet. Keeping a weather eye on him even as he finished the last of his opponents, Elladan noted the rage in the archer's eyes and wondered at it in alarm. It was not a general rage but was directed at this one bandit in particular. His suspicion was soon confirmed when Legolas wrestled the man's sword from him and without preamble hewed the latter's legs from under him. The brigand fell, the stumps of his severed legs spewing blood everywhere.

His was no merciful end. Legolas struck him again and again with strokes calculated to wound and torment but not to kill. Not just yet. Heedless of the man's howls of pain and terror, he brought the sword down upon him repeatedly until the howls faded away into a gruesome gurgle and, finally, silence.

Followed by an equally horrified Glorfindel and a handful of warriors, Elladan raced to the prince in a bid to bring his savagery to a halt. For Legolas did not stop his mauling of the now deceased bandit but relentlessly hacked at the body until it looked more like a carcass fit for the butcher's block than the form of what had once been a human being. The Elvenlord grabbed at his friend's arm, shocked by the steely strength that near defeated his efforts to pull him back from the black mire of uncontrollable fury that so tenaciously gripped him.

"Stop, Legolas, please stop!" Elladan cried hoarsely. "Please, _ernilen_"—my prince—"it is over."

He finally managed to stay the archer's arm before it brought down the bloodied sword yet again on the now unrecognizable corpse. Legolas was rigid with rage and he glared furiously at Elladan for daring to stop him.

"He is little more than meat for carrion beasts," Elladan pointed out. "'Tis enough."

"Nay, 'twill never be enough!" snarled the prince, snatching his arm from the Elf-lord's grasp. He bent and grabbed something from the mangled body at their feet.

"Legolas—"

"'Twas he who killed my mother!"

Elladan stared in shocked comprehension. The Mirkwood prince held in his hand a dismayingly familiar necklace. The older twin had seen it many a time hanging from Queen Ithilwen's swan-neck.

"Sweet Eru!" Elladan gasped. "This was the band that abducted your mother and sister?"

"And would have despoiled them had _Naneth_ not fought back!" Legolas growled. "They killed her for that, Elladan. For that and this!" He clenched his hand convulsively around the bauble. "I could not save her. Do you understand? I was too late! I failed her!"

"Nay, that is not true!"

"'Twas I who told her it was safe enough for her and Nimeithel to go riding. I who failed to discover the presence of these orc-spawn in our forest. _Naneth_ would still be alive if I had done my duty well. Even then I failed her."

"You cannot blame yourself. No one could have known—"

"And then I was incompetent enough to let these dogs escape!"

"You must stop—"

"I failed her, Elladan! She died because of me!"

"Enough!" Elladan roared, startling everyone into stillness including Legolas. He grabbed the prince and shook him fiercely, unmindful of the shocked stares of the others.

"Get a hold of yourself, _gwador!_"—sworn brother!—he rasped. "You debase yourself needlessly. Think you any of us can bear to see you in this state? Have pity on us if not on yourself."

At his words, Legolas seemed to notice the others for the first time. He flushed and averted his eyes compelling Glorfindel to tactfully lead the others back to main road of the settlement. Nonetheless, when he met Elladan's gaze again, his eyes were still dark and baleful, barely mastered rage in the near-indigo depths. The twin sighed wearily.

"Come, you must return to Imladris," he said. "Your disappearance will have caused everyone much anxiety."

Legolas started then stared at him in dawning realization.

"Aye, you are right," he conceded. "I did not consider that when I followed you."

Elladan nodded. "I thought not. Let us not tarry. I shudder to think what _Adar _will say when we get back."

They hastened back to rejoin Glorfindel. The Elda glanced frowningly at Legolas, dismayed that the prince had somehow managed to slip past the close guard kept on him. But he held his peace and only mildly inquired as to whether either Elf had incurred any injuries during the fighting. Having ascertained that none of his warriors had sustained anything more serious than shallow cuts and bruises, the fair-haired captain gave the order to prepare for the long trek back to Imladris. Prudently, he also sent two Elves ahead of the troop to get word soonest to Rivendell that Legolas was safe with them.

Taking only as much time as was necessary to burn the dead, wash off the grime and gore of battle and change into clean clothing, the patrol set off. But first they brought their prisoners to the nearest human village; whenever possible, the Elves preferred to let Men deal with their own. Then they went on their way at a hurried pace. Some inner voice told Elladan that it would be best if they gained the valley soonest and he persuaded Glorfindel to allow only the briefest of stops along the way.

Legolas remained silent for the most part, speaking only when spoken to. The twin wondered what thoughts troubled his friend's mind. Mindful of Thranduil's warnings, he and Glorfindel contrived to keep Legolas between them at all times the entire trip back to Imladris. The prince did not object to their obvious protectiveness and continued to hold his tongue with disconcerting stolidity.

It was only when they finally descended into the vale and crossed the Bruinen that the prince came out of his distressing silence. He turned restive as they neared the Last Homely House.

"I suppose I shall have to explain myself to Lord Elrond," Legolas grimaced at length.

Elladan was staring at something in the distance. His expression did not bode well for the prince's peace of mind. "'Tis not _Adar_ you have to worry about but Elrohir," he warned.

Legolas snapped his eyes in the direction of Elladan's stare. He sucked in his breath. The younger twin awaited them by the stables, his eyes black and stormy, mouth grim and tight, his entire body tense as a drawn bowstring. The prince quailed inwardly. He had never yet had Elrohir's fearsome rage directed at him.

It was apparent the other warriors had and that they did not wish to confront the younger twin while he was in that state for they changed their course and headed for the rear doors of the stables instead. Even Glorfindel chose to join them, leading his steed away from the inevitable confrontation. Legolas let out an apprehensive breath as he and Elladan reached the stables' main gates.

Hardly had they dismounted when Elrohir grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"You sneaked out on me!" the Elf-lord growled. "You promised me you would not leave Imladris!"

"I am sorry," Legolas lamely apologized.

"I trusted you!" Elrohir spat out in his agitation, his body beginning to tremble as his fury mounted. "I thought that meant something to you!"

Legolas's eyes widened. Stricken with remorse, he suddenly threw his arms around the other Elf, burying his face in Elrohir's shoulder.

"Forgive me, Elrohir! Please forgive me!" he cried out.

For a terrible moment, Elrohir stiffened and did not respond. He looked across at Elladan who looked back at him with grave concern. Finally, the younger twin exhaled sharply and hugged the prince back though, Legolas noticed anxiously, he was still shaking with emotion.

"I did not mean to lose my temper," he said heavily. "'Tis just that... Valar, Legolas! I was so scared! We looked everywhere for you and when I realized you'd followed the troop…" He shuddered as he relived the fear and anxiety following his discovery. Legolas, sensing the other's renewed tension, bit his lip guiltily and tightened his embrace of his friend.

Elrohir roughly grasped the prince by his arms and held him away, his pewter eyes flashing vexedly. "Don't ever do that again, Calenlass!" he hissed, not quite able to banish the ire in his voice.

"I won't," Legolas promised fervently. "But, please, do not look at me like that, Elrohir," he pleaded. "It breaks my heart to have you angry with me." He gulped painfully. "I... I am not used to it."

Elrohir went still. With an effort, he reined in his temper. He blew his breath out, releasing the remaining tension in his body. Then he nodded and pulled the archer back into his arms. Legolas gratefully accepted the much calmer embrace.

After a while, he obediently accompanied Elrohir to the house. Elladan, however, felt much too wound up to follow suit. The harrowing events just past and his discovery of Legolas' capacity for such un-elvish brutality was perturbing to say the least. He needed to release some of his tension and he doubted he would find the means inside the Last Homely House. Catching sight of Helmir heading for the barracks with the other warriors, he remembered the Elf's not-so-subtle invitation before the encounter with the brigands. With a purposeful gleam in his slate-blue eyes, he strode towards the barracks, already tugging impatiently at the clasps of his tunic.

Needless to say, young Helmir did not get any rest for what remained of the afternoon. Not that he took umbrage at the Elvenlord's peremptory demand for the pleasure of his company or the resulting order that he make himself available – and accommodating – for the next several nights.

Glossary:  
Hisimë - Quenya for November

_To be continued_…


	18. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 5

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
When night fell and Legolas did not appear in the dining hall for the evening meal, Elrohir took it upon himself to fetch him.

He walked into Legolas' chamber and stopped in some surprise. The prince sat slumped in the armchair in the far corner of the room, apparently fast asleep. He had not changed out of his travel-stained clothing, had not even bothered to shed his tunic, belt or boots. Elrohir approached him with some concerrn.

"Legolas?" he softly said, shaking the archer gently. "Wake up. 'Tis time for dinner."

But Legolas did not respond. Elrohir straightened up, wondering how to rouse his friend. Just then, the prince stirred and let out a pained moan. Elrohir quickly bent over him once more.

"Wake up, Calenlass," he urged a little more loudly. "You are having a bad dream, I think."

Elrohir frowned as the archer continued to moan, the sounds becoming a little more worrisome. "Legolas? Legolas, wake up." He shook the prince a little more firmly. "Come on, _ernilen_"—my prince—"you are scaring me."

Without warning, the archer's arm lashed out at him. The sharp blow to his temple was enough to send him staggering backwards. Elrohir shook his head groggily. _Elbereth! I did not see that coming! _

A glint of metal caught his attention. He barely managed to dodge the arcing slice of Legolas' _sigil_. He gaped in shock at the Elf-prince.

Legolas had risen from the chair and now stalked him with homicidal intent. His eyes were oddly blank but his face bore the determined scowl Elrohir had seen countless times before.

So he looks when he hunts scoundrels and the like, the twin realized with a thrill of apprehension. _He thinks I'm one of them!_

His supposition was abruptly confirmed when Legolas lunged at him, his dagger leveled at a deadly angle. Again he managed to evade the blow. Just barely. But he was not sanguine about his chances of continuing to do so indefinitely. Legolas was a Wood-elf with skill second to none in the use of knives. The prince did not let up in his assault, gave the darkling Elf no time to catch his breath or pause in his evasions of the flashing blade.

"Legolas!" Elrohir cried out desperately as the blade came within a hair's breath of slicing his cheek open. "_Gwador_, 'tis me, Elrohir!"

His frantic pleas were to no avail. The prince was lost in whatever waking nightmare drove him in this relentless pursuit of his imagined foe. And he was tireless. The demons that possessed him provided him with a vast reservoir of extra strength and energy.

Legolas suddenly scooped up a heavy figurine from the study table and hurled it at the twin. Elrohir leapt out of the way and the weighty object crashed jarringly against the wall behind him. But in dodging it, he was briefly distracted and that momentary inattention cost him. He yelped as Legolas neatly slashed his left arm just below the shoulder. Bleeding profusely from the wound, he was slow to react to the archer's next move.

He hissed in pain as he was brutally slammed against the wall. Legolas rammed his forearm up against his throat, nearly crushing his windpipe. Clawing desperately at the prince's arm, he saw, through the corner of his eye, the knife curving downwards. He barely managed to grab Legolas' wrist, keeping the blade just inches from his vulnerable neck.

"L-Legolas, s-stop!" he choked.

The pressure on his throat was unforgiving. He dizzily wondered what would kill him first, suffocation or the knife's lethal bite. His vision began to tunnel from lack of air. His strength started to ebb. He felt the tip of the blade pierce his flesh.

Salvation came in the forms of Elladan and Glorfindel as they burst into the room followed by Elrond, Erestor, Celebrían and Arwen. The first two Elves wasted no time gawking at the horrifying spectacle before them but rushed the struggling pair. With a concerted effort, they pried Legolas from his intended prey.

Elrohir sank to his knees, coughing violently and raggedly gulping down much-needed air. He was dimly aware of his parents hovering over him, Elrond examining his bruised throat and Celebrían looking over his bleeding arm.

Elladan and Glorfindel were shocked at the Elven prince's strength. Legolas twisted wildly in their hands, nearly breaking away from them at one point. They could not let go of his arms in order to take away his weapon.

"Disarm him!" Glorfindel yelled to Erestor.

The steward swiftly obeyed and attempted to pry Legolas's fingers from his knife. But the prince had a death grip on his weapon that defied Erestor's best efforts. "I will have to break his fingers!" he exclaimed in frustration.

"Nay!" Elrohir staggered to his feet, throwing off his mother's restraining hand. "Hold him!" he said hoarsely.

When Glorfindel and Elladan had redoubled their grip on the prince, the younger twin swung a clenched fist at Legolas' jaw. The blow was not so hard as to render the archer completely unconscious but it was enough to literally knock sense into him.

Legolas fell back, blinked confusedly for several seconds at the Elf-knight, then slumped into his captors' arms. The knife clattered to the floor. They lifted him and bore him to his bed.

Celebrían summoned a white-faced Arwen. "I need bandages and medicaments, _iell_"—daughter—she told her as she eyed Elrohir's bleeding arm. "Hurry now!"

"And I had better make a sleeping draught for Legolas," Elrond decided. "I had hoped we would never have to resort to that but…"

As her husband exited the room, Celebrían commenced cleaning Elrohir's wound. Arwen soon returned with the necessary medical supplies and mother and daughter set to work tending the younger twin's injuries.

Meanwhile, Elladan, Glorfindel and Erestor stripped the prince of his tunic, belt and boots, carefully searching for any concealed weapons. Like many seasoned warriors, Legolas oft hid an extra knife or two on his person. Erestor had already located a thin, long-bladed _sigil_, or knife, in his right boot.

After finishing their task, the women rose and left the room with Glorfindel and Erestor. By unspoken agreement, the twins remained with the prince.

It was not long before Legolas twitched then groaned as he slowly emerged from the half conscious state Elrohir's punch had sent him into. He opened his eyes and beheld Elladan watching him worriedly.

"What...?" he muttered. He raised a hand to his jaw, wondering why it ached. After a few more moments, he finally recognized the interiors of his bedchamber. He frowned in perplexity. "How did I get back here?" he mumbled. "And what happened to that bandit?"

Elladan sighed and squeezed his shoulder. "You were in your room all along." He hesitated. "And 'twas no bandit you were grappling with."

Legolas' eyes narrowed in confusion. "Then who—?" He noticed Elladan had flicked his eyes to something behind him. He turned his head, suddenly aware of another presence. His eyes widened in shock.

Elrohir was a sorry sight. The mark on his temple had darkened to a black and blue smudge, the colors matching the multiple bruises on his pale throat. The cut on his neck had already closed but his collar was red with telltale bloodstains. His left sleeve had been torn off just below the shoulder and his arm was bound. Blood also stained what remained of the sleeve and the left side of his shirt.

Horror filled Legolas' eyes. "How—?" He swallowed painfully. "Did I...?" Elrohir bit his lip and nodded. The prince moaned and abruptly sat up. He moved to get of the bed. "I must go!" he cried.

Two pairs of strong hands held him in place. "Where do you think you're going?" Elladan demanded.

"I am a menace to you all," Legolas choked. "I cannot stay here."

"Lie down, Legolas," Elrohir said firmly. "You're not going anywhere."

"But, Elrohir, I nearly killed you!" Legolas protested.

"I can take care of myself," the younger twin grimly answered, resolved never to tell the prince just how close he had indeed come to ending his life.

"But what if it had been your mother or Arwen I attacked?" Legolas pointed out hoarsely.

"They were never in any danger," Elrond replied as he entered the room, bearing a goblet. "They knew enough never to be alone with you."

Legolas gaped at the Lord of Rivendell. "You-you know about…?" His voice trailed off at the knowing light in the loremaster's eyes

"Of course, _pen neth_"—young one—Elrond nodded. "A healer of any worth always learns as much about his patients as is possible. Your father told us everything that happened in the wake of your mother's death."

Legolas dropped his head shamefacedly. "Yet you took me in, knowing what I had become."

"You have _not_ become anything," Elrohir reproved him gently. "You will be healed of this, Legolas."

"But you must let us help you," Elladan added.

"My sons are correct," Elrond agreed. "You should heed them. Here, drink this," he said, handing over the goblet. "It will help you sleep tonight."

Legolas took the goblet and drank the contents. But he kept his eyes cast down, shriveled by his shame and guilt. He could not even look at Elrohir whose battered appearance he could thank the woodland prince for. The darkling Elf instinctively discerned what he was thinking, so close had they become as their friendship progressed and deepened.

"Do not blame yourself for this, Calenlass," he murmured gently. "You were not yourself."

"But I hurt you," Legolas choked, his voice thick with self-loathing. "This should never have happened."

"Yet I would go through it again if it would help you mend," the twin said fiercely. "I would see you healed, Legolas, I would have you whole."

Legolas stared at him, moved by the other's loyalty and selflessness. He nodded dumbly.

"Good. Let us hear no more about you leaving," Elrohir smiled tenderly.

"I-I am so s-sorry," Legolas stammeringly whispered.

"There is no need to apologize for I know you would never hurt me knowingly," the twin responded. "Now, lie down and get some rest. Mandos knows you need it."

Legolas found he could not protest. The sleeping draught was already taking hold of him, lulling him into a soothing state of nothingness.

"Lord Elrond?" he managed to mumble before sleep overcame him. "Please forgive me."

"As my son said, there is nothing to forgive," Elrond replied softly. "Be at peace."

When Legolas was fast asleep the Elves convened outside his room where Celebrían and Arwen joined them.

"He must not be left alone tonight," Elrond gravely stated. "He must not feel forsaken because of what has happened."

Elrohir snorted. "As if I would ever let that happen," he said. "I will stay with him."

"As will I," Elladan added.

Arwen chimed in: "And I."

Celebrían raised an eyebrow at her daughter's offer. Her face turned anxious. "I do not think that is wise, _iellen_"—my daughter—she objected. "What if he turns violent again?"

Arwen's expression turned mulish, a look so reminiscent of her brothers at their most stubborn that Elrond had to smile. "Legolas is my friend, too, _Nana_"—Mama—she pointed out. "If he sees that we are determined to stand by him, he will heal all the faster."

Celebrían turned imploring eyes to her husband but Elrond could only shake his head and say: "I fear I have to agree with Arwen, _mellen_."—my dear. "Legolas' recovery hinges as much on our acceptance of him as it does on his ability to stop blaming himself for Ithilwen's death."

With a resigned sigh, Celebrían nodded her acquiescence and the three young Elves prepared themselves for a night of guardianship over the woodland prince.

_To be continued_…


	19. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 6

**AN:** This is in response to Sorceress and Nina to whom I couldn't reply in private. Thank you for your kind and heartening reviews. I truly appreciate your taking the time to leave me feedback. As for the paucity of reviews, perhaps slash fiction is not as well-received a genre here than it is in other sites or the pairing isn't the most popular among FFnet's readers. That's fine with me. Everyone has their peeves and preferences. At least, I _am_ getting reviews!

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI  
Legolas woke up slowly, his memories of the night before a jumble of images and sounds that as yet made no sense. He became aware of a familiar, comforting scent and the warmth of powerful arms holding him. He came awake with a jolt when he recognized the Elf before him.

Elrohir lay propped up against a plump pillow, slightly on his side so that he cradled Legolas in his arms allowing the prince to rest his head against his chest. The twin was fast asleep as evinced by his closed eyes and even breathing. He had changed into fresh nightclothes and, save for the bruises on his temple and throat, looked none the worse for the horrific assault Legolas had subjected him to.

Memory came surging back to the archer with singular clarity. He gazed at the younger twin in mingled remorse and bemusement before becoming conscious of more than one presence in his bed.

He turned his head and looked behind him. There lay a sleeping Elladan, also on his side facing the prince, his arms folded across his chest. Getting more and more perplexed, Legolas sensed yet another figure at the foot of his large bed. He glanced down and gasped. Her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, Arwen slumbered peacefully, her slim form shrouded in a warm blanket.

Legolas was astounded. The siblings had stayed the night with him. And they had arranged themselves in such a way that he would feel utterly protected and comforted when he finally awoke from his drug-induced sleep. It was then that he realized they had also divested him of his soiled clothing, sponged him clean and dressed him in sleeping attire. He swallowed hard at this evidence of their love for him.

"Are you all right, Calenlass?" a soft voice caught his attention. He glanced up at Elrohir, the only one who used the affectionate pet name on him.

He nodded and said in a hushed voice: "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Arwen said with a drowsy smile, rising from her position.

"Aye, think nothing of it," Elladan yawningly agreed from behind him.

Legolas was indescribably touched. "I do not know how I can ever repay you," he said. "After what I did..."

Arwen leaned forward and put her fingers to his lips. "You are our hearts' brother, Legolas. There is nothing to repay." She withdrew her hand. "However, 'tis time that you properly grieved."

Elladan nodded. "You must express your sorrow else you will never fully recover."

Tears stung the archer's eyes but refused to fall. He said brokenly: "How can I grieve when 'twas I who caused her death?"

Elladan said firmly: "'Twas not your fault, _gwador_."—sworn brother. "'Twas no one's fault. Your mother would be the first to tell you that if she were here."

Arwen took his hand and squeezed it. "Please, Legolas, do not try to hold in your sadness. Let it out. You will honor her that way."

Legolas felt his throat tighten. It was so difficult. He had held in his self-hatred and guilt for so long. How could he weep now?

He felt Elrohir's lips near his ear. "Even were you truly to blame for her passing, 'twould still be your right to grieve for her," he murmured. At Legolas' startled stare, he said emphatically: "'Tis the right of any child to mourn a parent's loss even should that loss lie at the child's feet. Yet this was not your doing, Legolas. No one believes it, not your family or us and your beloved _naneth_, least of all. Only you believe it and by doing so bring no peace to her spirit." The prince's stare turned watery, the first hint of the dam starting to erode. Elrohir said sadly: "Ah, if only I could, I would bear your sorrow. I would take your pain. What will it take for you to accept the truth? Please tell me, Calenlass. I can no longer bear to see you thus."

He looked at the younger twin. The Elf's grey eyes swam as he gazed at the archer. There was compassion in his gaze and infinite patience and wholehearted trust and acceptance and so much more. Elrohir's unflinching empathy finally breached the dam of Legolas' emotions. The prince shuddered as the first tears began to spill from his eyes.

With a harsh sob, he buried his face in the Elf-knight's chest and wept for the first time since Ithilwen's death. Elrohir held him tightly, stroking his shining hair, whispering soothing words. Elladan and Arwen smiled with relief through their own tears. Leave it to Elrohir to get to the heart of the matter. He had always known Legolas best and understood his needs long before others were even aware they existed.

The prince cried for the better part of an hour, emptying himself until he was so spent he slipped into deep slumber once more. The siblings did not abandon him even then but took turns watching over him. When he awakened several hours later, he found Elrohir patiently sitting by the bed. No hint of wariness or accusation clouded his eyes in spite of what the archer had done to him the last time he had come upon him alone. Legolas was profoundly touched.

oOoOoOo

Elrond looked up from the documents he'd been perusing when Elladan entered the study. The older twin sank down quietly into one of the chairs facing his father's ornate desk.

"How is Legolas?" Elrond inquired.

"Elrohir brought him to the dining hall for a light meal," Elladan replied. "He hasn't had anything to eat since yestermorn and the incident last night took quite a bit out of him."

"Understandably," Elrond commented. "And did this morning's business prove cathartic as well?"

"Amazingly so. He finally let out his grief. It helped that Elrohir knew what to say and do." The Elf-warrior pursed his lips musingly. "As always."

Elrond took note of his older son's odd tone of voice. "What is it, _gwaniuar_"—older twin? "Do you take exception to your brother's affinity with the prince?"

Elladan looked at his father, startled. "Of course not!" he replied. "Elbereth knows we have all hoped he would find a friend such as he has in Legolas. I have no quarrel with their closeness at all. It's just that..."

"Yes...?"

"I worry that his regard is far more profound than it should be." Elladan looked uncertainly at his father. "You know how he is. Ever slow to yield his heart but fiercely committed once it is yielded."

Elrond frowned. "Do you suspect that Elrohir has began to feel something other than the love of a friend for Legolas?"

"I truly do not know," the twin answered. "He professes that he does not and I have always trusted his judgment of himself. But his demeanor with Legolas disturbs me at times." He hesitated. "He is too... tender and understanding. He sometimes reminds of... well, of you... the way you are with _Nana_."—Mama.

Elrond stared at his son in surprise. "I had not noticed," he admitted. "It has ever been his manner with Legolas since the first of your acquaintanceship."

"And it has made me wonder ever since, _Ada_, for it has never been Elrohir's wont to be enamored so swiftly or to dote so fulsomely on any outside of our family. I am concerned that his feelings have deepened far more than is seemly and will continue to deepen with the years. He denies it but his actions belie his words."

"This is indeed awkward," Elrond mused. "Considering the present constraints in Eryn Galen..."

"Exactly. Were it an Elf from hereabouts or Lindon or Lórien, there would be no cause for alarm. But Legolas—! Unless the situation changes in Greenwood I see no possible solution should my suspicions prove true." He looked imploringly at his father. "Ai, _Ada_, what if I am right? I do not want Elrohir to suffer such a grievous hurt."

Elrond swiftly rose and went to his son. Placing a comforting hand on the Elf-warrior's shoulder, he gently said: "'Tis natural that you should fear for him for he is your twin and closer to you than any other. But you cannot shield him from his heart's desires or the pain that may come to him as a result. You can only be there for him when he has need of your love and solace. At least, be glad he seeks his life's mate amongst our kindred and not in the ranks of humankind as my brother did. 'Twas difficult enough letting Elros go. I do not think I could endure the loss of any of my children to that fate as well."

Elladan stared at his father's suddenly sorrowful countenance. "I am sorry, _Ada_!"—Papa!—he softly exclaimed. "I should not have reminded you of—"

"Not your doing, _gwaniuar_," Elrond swiftly cut him off. "That tragedy and the pain of it is something I live with every day of my life. But you and your mother and siblings have brought me such great joy that it has more than compensated me for the loss of my brother." He shook Elladan affectionately. "As your caring will compensate Elrohir for any heartbreak he may need to bear."

"I hope 'twill be enough," Elladan remarked gravely. "But I will do my utmost to help him, that I promise."

Elrond's lips quirked with unexpected humor. "Help him what? To get over the loss of love or to win it?"

The older twin had to grin in return albeit weakly. "Whichever he will need," he rejoined.

Their conversation was necessarily ended by the appearance of the subjects of it. While Elrond returned to his seat behind his desk, Elrohir led a subdued Legolas to the comfortable couch against the near wall. He made to move to another chair but the prince pleadingly pulled him back and he relented and sat by his friend instead. Legolas looked up with some trepidation at the twins' father but, to his relief, he saw naught but kindness and sympathy in Elrond's grey eyes.

"I wish to apologize for everything that has happened, Lord Elrond," he haltingly began. "I know I have been a burden to you and yours and—"

"You have not been a burden," Elrond corrected him. "It has ever been our delight to have you with us."

"You are too kind, my lord," Legolas murmured.

"Not at all, Legolas," the Imladrin lord replied. "Would we turn away or forsake one we consider a part of our family? Certainly, my sons would turn on _me_ were I to do so."

Legolas blushed then glanced gratefully from one twin to the other before addressing Elrond once more. "You said _Adar_ told you about... what I did after...? He trailed off uncomfortably.

"Thranduil recounted to us that you attacked several members of his household and even some of your mother's kin," Elrond said. "He mentioned your latest victim was Brethildor which was fortunate as your brother is a formidable warrior and well able to defend himself." He paused to allow Legolas time to digest the information. "He also told us that these bouts of rage usually took place after a violent engagement and always when you were asleep or in a semi-conscious state. For that reason, I gave instructions to everyone never to approach you by themselves particularly when you were unconscious or newly awakened."

Legolas flinched, discomposed by the former's frankness. "After I assaulted Brethildor, father took me off scout duty and also ensured no one ever remained alone with me when I slept," he admitted. "'Twas a wise move and kept me from hurting anyone else. I am only thankful no one died as a result of my madness." He darted a haunted look at Elrohir.

Despite the Elf-knight's refusal to reveal anything further of what the prince had done to him, Legolas suspected his friend may very well have become the first casualty of his unbidden rampages.

Elrond shook his head. "'Twas not madness that drove you, _ernil neth_"—young prince—"but only your deep-seated feelings of guilt and hatred. You refused to express your sorrow or confide your sense of worthlessness and self-recrimination and thus buried these feelings deep in your mind. 'Twas a dangerous thing to do for they surfaced when you were not in control of your conscious thought and manifested themselves in your assaults on any who happened to be in your presence."

Legolas glanced at Elrohir again, shame mingling with curiosity. "You knew 'twas perilous to be alone with me when I was unconscious and after a fight no less. Why did you do so last night?" he queried.

Elrohir sighed. "A foolish miscalculation," he said. "I thought you had expended all your rage during the encounter with the bandits and would not harbor hidden feelings so soon after."

Elrond demurred. "'Twas a reasonable assumption, _gwanneth_" —younger twin—he pointed out. He looked once more at the prince "Your outburst with Elladan was the first you'd given in to since your mother's passing. Though you had loosened up enough with my sons to express displeasure..." He paused when Legolas cast a pained look at the twins. "You were not quite yourself, Legolas. My sons knew all too well what drove you and did not take it against you." He waited for the prince's discomfiture to subside before continuing. "As I was saying, though you were able to release some of your tension, it was not enough. You needed a more exhaustive outlet for your rage and your expression of it after the battle with the bandits was an important step in the right direction. I very much doubt you would have attacked Elrohir had you given full vent to your feelings after that encounter."

"That was my doing," Elladan said ruefully. "I should have known better than to stop Legolas from expending his feelings. Instead, I stupidly caused him to bottle them up once more. How I ever imagined I could be as good a healer as you, _Ada_, is beyond me."

Elrond smiled faintly. "Do not blame yourself overmuch, Elladan," he said. "You were newly come from battle and could hardly be expected to think clearly. Besides, the path to healing is not always straight and true and many obstacles arise unlooked for that even the most tested of healers cannot anticipate."

Legolas looked at him uncertainly. "Will I... will I do this again?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"That will depend on you," Elrond honestly replied. "That you finally allowed yourself to mourn your mother was an even bigger step toward healing. If you cease to keep these feelings of hate and self-blame to yourself, if you vent them instead of repressing them, I see no reason why your spirit should not eventually be healed in full."

Legolas nodded slowly. He looked from Elrohir to Elladan. "I have the two of you to thank," he murmured. "You showed me nothing but utmost patience and understanding even when I took out my anger on you. If only I had trusted you more, the attack last night..." He shuddered. Getting a hold of himself, he continued: "You are right, Lord Elrond. In all these months that I did not grieve, I felt such a heaviness of spirit that I could scarcely breath freely. The burden is not so oppressive now though I will confess, I still feel..." He gulped, forced down the tightness in his throat. "I cannot stop blaming myself for what happened. I keep thinking that had I been more vigilant, _Naneth_ would still be alive. Even now, I want to kill those knaves all over again!" He closed his eyes, bent his head. "I have oft dreamt of how I would slay them and now that the deed is done I feel I was too merciful and wish I had prolonged their torment. 'Tis a terrible thing to desire but I cannot help it. I..." He stopped, shivering from the intensity of his emotions.

He felt a hand take his and hold it fast. Raising his head, he realized it was Elrohir. He flushed but held his friend's hand in turn, thankful for his boundless compassion and unconditional acceptance.

"I am rambling," he murmured a little embarrassedly.

The grip on his hand tightened reassuringly.

"Ramble as much as you want, Calenlass," the Elf-knight gently said. "We are listening."

Legolas took heart, drew a steadying breath, and did.

_To be continued…_


	20. Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning 7

_**Gwador: Sorrow's First Dawning**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII  
_Nénimë_ T.A. 1053  
Legolas gazed upon the snow-covered gardens of the Last Homely House. He was standing on the porch overlooking the gardens, unmindful as any Elf of the crisp winter breeze that swirled around his slender form. In the distance, the cascades' roar had been reduced to a mere whisper, as the rapids that fed the falls lay dormant, locked for the most part in the frozen embrace of ice. Consequently, only a lovely, lacy trickle remained of the cascades' usual turbulence.

Near noiseless footfalls marked the approach of the twins and Legolas beamed a welcome at the two as they flanked him. For a comfortable while, they too regarded the pristine landscape in silence.

"A silver piece for your thoughts, _gwador_"—sworn brother—Elladan said at length.

Legolas' smile turned a little pensive. "I was just wondering...does Valinor have winter?" At the brethren's bemused expressions, he added: "My mother loved winter. She would be disappointed if she could not look forward to the joys of the season."

Elrohir had to smile at that. "Glorfindel has said that 'twas perpetual spring and summer in Aman when last he lived there before returning to Middle-earth," he commented. "But he also told us that the Powers have oft altered Valinor to suit the needs of our kindred. Who knows, mayhap they may choose to introduce the season of winter for the Elves who seek it."

"Mild winters, I hope," Elladan wryly commented. "I cannot fathom why anyone would look forward to cumbersome snowdrifts and ice-covered pathways that threaten everyone with a tumble or worse."

Legolas chuckled. "If _Naneth_ loved this season, 'tis because father fell in love with her one winter."

"Did he now?"

"Aye, after she struck him with a fistful of snow."

"She did what!" Elrohir gasped laughingly. "That was brave of her."

Legolas grinned. "Which is why _Adar_ fell in love with her. She was the first and only Elf-maid not to be overly impressed by his title."

"How... romantic..." Elladan grimaced to the amusement of the others.

"Romance is in the eye of the beholder, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—Elrohir teasingly chided him. "You know that."

"Mayhap," Elladan said doubtfully. He glanced at Legolas curiously. "Spring will soon be here. What are your plans?"

The prince fell into thoughtful silence. Just the previous evening, Lord Elrond had declared him well enough to return to Greenwood. Since his horrific assault on Elrohir, there had been only one like incident to mar Rivendell's peace but it had not been as vicious an attack and the twins had successfully roused him from his unwitting violence. That had been the last of his regrettable outbursts.

Healing had come not only with the expression of his deep-seated feelings regarding his mother's death but also with his acceptance of what had happened and his ability to stop holding himself culpable for what had passed. In doing so, he had finally been able to mourn his mother in full and, with that, the terrible bouts of rage had ceased once and for all.

"I think I shall visit her grave as soon as I get home," he mused quietly. "I will place flowers upon it as I should have when we first laid her to rest, sing to her mayhap... grieve a little more." He sighed. "Spend time with _Adar_ and Nimeithel and my brothers. We need each other, I realize that now."

"Then you are truly healed," Elrohir softly said.

Legolas smiled at his friend. Then his eyes clouded somewhat.

"What is wrong?"

"Not wrong. Only..." The archer bit his lip. "'Tis strange for I have been here far longer than I ever have before... yet I am loath to leave and forego your company." He looked from one brother to the other. "You took such good care of me that I know I will sorely miss your attentions. I will miss you."

Twin pairs of raven eyebrows rose in unison. With tender smiles, the brethren placed soothing hands on the prince's shoulders.

"We will miss you, too, Calenlass," Elrohir said. "But if fate smiles upon us, we will be reunited ere long."

"That will not be soon enough for me," Legolas sighed.

But he smiled nevertheless as each brother squeezed his shoulders consolingly. He was blessed to have won such inimitable affection and implacable loyalty. Twice blessed to have doubly won both. Come spring, he would be parted from them when the inevitable calls of princely duty and honor beckoned to them all but in their deep and abiding friendship he knew they could never be truly sundered. Not even if all the leagues of Middle-earth lay between them. In that thought he found the greatest comfort of all.

Glossary:  
Nénimë – Quenya for February  
Naneth - Mother  
Adar - Father

The End

**Part 6:** Heart's Brother: Gandalf hints that the conditions pertaining to the choice of the Peredhil are not as implacable as Elrond's children think. Rating: T


	21. Postscript: Heart's Brother

**Summary:** Gandalf hints that the conditions pertaining to the choice of the Peredhil are not as implacable as Elrond's children think.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** There are some tales that just don't fit into the longer narratives yet are so vital to the continuity and coherence of the storyline. This is one of them.

_**Postscript: Heart's Brother**_  
_by Eressë_

Imladris, _Viressë_ T.A. 1053  
Gandalf the Grey was not known to settle in any abode long enough to gather moss. Of the five Istari who had come to Middle-earth from across the Sea, he was the most itinerant. Small wonder the Elves had dubbed him Mithrandir or Grey Pilgrim. But there was one realm, one place he was pleased to call a base of sorts if not home and that was Imladris.

This breezy afternoon in spring, the wizard watched his young companions with an indulgent smile. He was seated beneath the shady branches of a large oak near Rivendell's roaring cascades, enjoying a picnic of all things with Elrond's children and their good friend, Legolas of Mirkwood.

The woodland prince was set to return to his father's kingdom the following morn after a stay of nearly eight months in the valley. The brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, had conceived of the idea to hold a picnic both as a going away party for him and a bid to lighten their collective melancholy at his imminent departure.

For Legolas was more than the twins' friend; he was their sworn brother as they were his. The first months of the prince's stay had been fraught with tension, sorrow and near-catastrophe but these travails only served to further seal the threesome's formidable bond. Now, they were evermore united in their long friendship and fast-deepening brotherhood. Hence, the reluctance to part from each other despite Legolas' lengthy visit and the desire to fete the archer in this intimate manner before said parting.

In this they'd had their sister's assistance. Arwen had helped them coax Iorwen into preparing a sumptuous lunch for them replete with the cook's famous pastries. Armed with food and wine, they'd headed for the falls for an afternoon of camaraderie and ease. To this end, they were all more dressed down than usual, the twins and Legolas clad only in shirts, breeches and light shoes and Arwen in her simplest gown. None had bothered to plait or bind their hair; their freely flowing locks made them look even younger than they actually were.

Gandalf's inclusion had been sudden. They'd invited him to join them when he showed up unlooked for that very morning. All four Elves were fond of and fascinated by the Istar who could be, by turns, kindly, awe-inspiring, merry or irascible. For they sensed the power his rather nondescript appearance veiled though they did not comprehend what or who he truly was. If Elrond knew, he had chosen to hold his tongue on the matter and they'd had no luck prying any information out of him.

But as much as they observed him, he studied them even more keenly. Gandalf always seemed to be aware of what was going on around him even to the slightest nuances in people's speech or demeanor. It was a pleasant exercise to the wizard and also a useful one.

He paid sharp attention when Legolas, coming in on the tail end of a discussion regarding the ancestry of the Peredhil, said a little peevishly: "I still don't see why you must leave Middle-earth with your father to be of the Firstborn. It seems most unfair that you must abide by a decision made ages ago."

Elrohir shook his head and placed a calming hand on his friend's shoulder. "We do not understand either, _gwador_, but we do not have much choice. 'Tis the will of the Valar."

"Aye, for if that is what the Powers decreed, who are we to gainsay it?" Elladan added.

"But is there no way around it?" Legolas insisted. "What if you are not ready to leave these lands when your father chooses to go? Surely the Valar would not be so obdurate as to hold you to so onerous a decree."

"They would not," Gandalf interrupted, eliciting starts of surprise from the others. "You are right, young Legolas. There are always possibilities even with the Powers themselves."

Awen frowned. "But their decision was clear," she said. "For so long as Father abides here, we shall have the youth of the Eldar. But when he sails West, we must take ship with him or remain in Middle-earth to die as mortals."

Gandalf nodded. "So was the choice appointed to the Peredhil at the end of the First Age," he agreed. "But you of all Elves should know that the decisions of the Valar and even Eru himself are not always immutable. Else your foremother, Lúthien would not have been permitted to join her fate to a mortal spouse. Nor would the Valar have allowed Eärendil to plead his cause before them in Valinor, waged war on Morgoth or rescinded the Ban on the exiled Noldor. The Powers' decrees are not to be gainsaid as you put it but they are by no means set in stone either."

"Are you suggesting that we need not go with Father when he departs these shores?" Elrohir baldly asked.

Gandalf had to smile at the younger twin's straightforwardness. He pursed his lips humorously.

"I am suggesting that your choice is still far in the future," he said, his beard almost but not quite concealing his mischievous grin. "Many things may happen or change ere you must decide your paths."

"Meaning you do not desire to enlighten us at present," Arwen said somewhat astringently.

Gandalf's eyes twinkled in agreement. The Elves sighed. Trust a wizard to leave you hanging in either anticipation or frustration.

"Well, I hope what Mithrandir says is true whatever it may take," Legolas declared. He yawned without warning, barely clapping his hand over his mouth in time to stifle it. Arwen giggled. "Pardon me," he smiled drowsily.

Elladan and Elrohir chuckled. Legolas' languor was not surprising considering the number of pastries he had consumed. Iorwen was truly a wonder in her own right when it came to making the most toothsome delicacies this side of the Great Sea.

"Lie down, Calenlass," Elrohir said, patting a thigh invitingly.

Legolas accepted the offer with alacrity and laid his head on the Elf-knight's lap. His unbound hair spilled onto Elrohir's thighs while his limber frame stretched out on the springy grass. In seconds, he had dozed off into light slumber. The others laughed softly then sought cozy positions themselves. It was a lovely afternoon and they felt deliciously relaxed as well.

Elladan lay on his back, arms folded under his head while Arwen curled up with a contented smile on the picnic mantle. Gandalf, for his part, leaned languidly against the oak tree and absently regarded the pair before him. He smiled slightly at the picture they presented.

Elrohir was stroking Legolas' flaxen mane, idly brushing stray strands from his friend's face. He was also looking down at Legolas with the gentlest, most appreciative smile the wizard had ever had the privilege to see. Gandalf wondered about it.

Well, mayhap 'tis nothing more than admiration for a friend's comeliness, he mused. They are very close after all. He glanced down at the sleeping Elf. And Legolas was wondrous fair. One hesitated to use the word handsome on so seemingly ethereal a creature. Beautiful was closer to the mark. Yet the Wood-elf was a warrior of note, as fearsome in battle as Elrond's formidable sons.

He considered Elrohir once more. The wizard's bushy eyebrows drew together slightly and a speculative glitter appeared in his eyes. If anything, the younger twin's expression seemed to have turned warmer and more affectionate than before. Was there something else there?

Elrohir deftly tucked a wayward lock of silvery gold behind a delicate ear. For a moment, his fingers lingered before he drew a forefinger ever so lightly along the curve of Legolas' ear. Sensitive as all Elves were in that vicinity, Legolas smiled slightly in his sleep and made a sound that sounded like a muffled chortle. Elrohir gazed at him intently, his argent eyes gleaming oddly, before resuming his stroking of the wheaten tresses.

Gandalf's eyebrows drew apart and rose in fascination instead. Yes, there is something else, he thought. Was the woodland prince just the Elf-knight's heart's brother... or also his heart's desire? He mentally shook his head. He was not about to jump to any conclusions just yet. Let time tie loose ends if they are fit to be tied, he told himself.

Elrohir looked up then, sensing the Istar's scrutiny. But all he saw was Gandalf looking back at him benignly. Becoming conscious of what he was doing, he smiled a little embarrassedly at the wizard and ceased the movements of his hand.

"Do not stop," Gandalf softly advised him. "He was enjoying it."

Elrohir looked down and saw a small frown mar Legolas' smooth forehead. After some hesitation, he resumed his soothing ministrations. The frown vanished and Legolas' features turned serene once more.

The Elf-knight gazed at his friend gravely for a spell then glanced up to see if Gandalf still watched him. He swallowed a chuckle.

The wizard was in an attitude of deep repose, his long white beard fanning out upon his chest. Indeed, everyone was asleep; it seemed he was the only one left with his wits still about him. He returned to his appreciative contemplation of Legolas' countenance. A tender smile curled the corners of his sinuous lips.

Across from him, unseen, Gandalf lifted one lid and observed him briefly. Definitely something else, he decided. And then he closed his eye and finally nodded off into real, restful slumber.

Glossary:  
Viressë – Quenya for April  
Peredhil (pl.) – Half-elves/Half-elven  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

**Part 7:** Forbidden Fruit - An old friend of Legolas' develops a forbidden passion and in the process triggers confusion, heartbreak and tragedy. Rating: M


	22. Forbidden Fruit 1

**Warning:** This is slash fiction and while I adhered as closely as possible to the canon timeline and storylines obviously the same cannot be said for some of the relationships recounted herein. Therefore please do not proceed any further if the subject matter or this take on Prof. Tolkien's work offends or disturbs you.

**Summary:** An old friend of Legolas' develops a forbidden passion and in the process triggers confusion, heartbreak and tragedy.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** If Sirgon seems familiar, it's because he appeared in _Meldir: At First Sight_ as one of Legolas' childhood friends.

_**Forbidden Fruit**_  
_by Eressë_

Mirkwood, _ethuil_ T.A. 1300 - _laer_ T.A. 1305

Chapter I  
Sirgon looked about him with nostalgia and curiosity. It had been centuries since he'd last set foot in the Woodland Realm, a millennium since he'd beheld the halls of Thranduil. Yet it was like coming home. He had never truly forgotten Greenwood the Great.

His father, Beldoron, had been a trusted counsellor and good friend of the king and his sire before him in that time past. He'd been one of a handful of Wood-elves who had travelled to the realm of Lothlórien shortly before the Last Alliance of Elves and Men was formed, bearing assurances of aid from Oropher and Thranduil to their kinsman, Celeborn. For though Thranduil's father, Oropher, had vowed never to have anything to do with any of the Noldor, Celeborn's wife, Galadriel, included, his son had been wise and prudent enough not to completely severe ties with his cousin. Dark times necessitated putting aside rancor and presenting a united front to Middle-earth's latest bane and Thranduil had acted accordingly. Eventually, Oropher had come to agree that the alliance was necessary though, with predictable pride, he refused to let their forces march under Gil-galad's banner. Later events proved Thranduil's caution correct but, unfortunately, also aggravated the prevailing distrust he had always harbored towards the Noldor.

But all that was still in the future when Beldoron made that sojourn to the Golden Wood. It was during this visit that he had met his wife, a Silvan Elf woman in the service of Galadriel. Beldoron had fallen in love with her and, years later, having survived Oropher's impulsive, ill-fated charge in Mordor, he returned to Lórien, secured her hand in marriage and brought her back to Eryn Galen. She had eventually borne him a son and for several years lived with her husband contentedly enough under the eaves of Greenwood.

But little more than a decade after the alliance between Eryn Galen and Rivendell had been forged, the long dormant yearning of Sirgon's mother for the Golden Wood reawakened. She became listless, almost ill, a thing unheard of among the Firstborn. Realizing the cause and extent of her distress, Beldoron had sought his king's permission and removed his family to Lothlórien.

That had been a great shock to Sirgon who had only been in his seventh decade of life. Though lawfully in his majority, he was still young and sheltered by any standard; an Elfling in all but age. Lothlórien was altogether different from Eryn Galen, at once less vast yet more remote. It was with a heavy heart that he'd followed his parents south, leaving behind all that he had known. Old friends, familiar haunts, but most of all… Legolas.

He had virtually grown up at court because of his father's position. That had thrown him into close proximity with Thranduil's children, particularly his youngest son to whom he was closest in age. In the way of all children, whether Elf, Man or other Free Folk, they became playmates and later good friends. Two others only did Legolas later account closer to himself than Sirgon.

These were the twin sons of Elrond of Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir. Ever did the brothers have a close bond with the youngest prince of the Woodland Realm since their first acquaintance, much to the despair of their respective families. For the three together were a formidable combination at thinking up mischief and wreaking mayhem. Sirgon had only been peripherally involved in their adventures, his father maintaining that he would not offend his king by having his son add to the already hair-raising situations the prince and his friends habitually got themselves into.

Sirgon's family had departed for Lothlórien several years after that momentous first meeting between Thranduil's children and Elrond's twins. By then a steadfast friendship had already been established between the youngest prince and the brethren, a friendship that had put to rest any residual rancor and distrust between Eryn Galen's Sindarin king and Rivendell's Eldarin lord whose Noldorin connections had been at the heart of the original unease between the two realms.

Sirgon had encountered the brothers here and then during his days in Lothlórien when they would come to visit their mother's parents, the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. But he'd never again seen Legolas for none of the royal family of the Woodland Realm had ever ventured there.

He heard tales of the comings and goings between Eryn Galen and Imladris. Had often wished he could be a continuing part of that story. But it was not until late that he'd gotten his wish and that had come of a tragedy.

His mother had accompanied Celeborn's daughter, Celebrían, who was Lord Elrond's wife, to Rivendell after one of the lady's visits to her parents' realm. On the way back, the party of Lórien Elves had been ambushed by orcs. There had been one casualty. Sirgon's mother. With nothing to hold him to Lothlórien any longer, Beldoron had decided to return to the north with his son.

Now Sirgon was back where it all started. Where he had grown up and known happiness. Lothlórien was beautiful and enchanting but he was a simple Greenwood Elf at heart. Living in such rarified environs had not been to his taste and he'd never felt himself a Lórien Elf, not even after so many centuries of life there.

He looked to where his father sat with the King, the two exchanging pleasantries and news. The great hall was relatively empty at this time of day and Sirgon stayed quietly by himself near the entrance. He wondered where Legolas was and what he was doing. And he wondered if his old friend would still remember him.

"Sirgon!"

The voice that uttered his name was unfamiliar and Sirgon turned to see who had addressed him. His mouth dropped open at the vision that greeted him.

He'd never seen a more comely Elf, not even in Lothlórien. Though dressed in the simple green and brown of a Mirkwood Elf and obviously lately come from the hunt, the _Edhel_ carried himself with a regal grace reminiscent of Thranduil himself. His pale gold hair, braided in the style of the northern Wood-elves, hung below his shoulders. Dark blue eyes glittered warmly and the finely wrought lips were curved into a small smile.

"What? Do you not know me?" the fair-haired Elf remarked with an amused glint in his eyes. "Your memory has grown feeble, Sirgon."

Sirgon gasped in sudden recognition and rose to his feet. "Legolas?" he managed to utter. He could not believe his eyes. When he'd left, the prince had just lately come to his majority, fair as the Elves are, but to Sirgon's own boyish eyes, nothing extraordinary. One could not say the same of the Elven prince who now stood before him.

When did he grow to be so beautiful? Sirgon thought in wonder. He had no more time to think when Legolas stepped forward and pulled him into a welcoming embrace. His own arms automatically enclosing the prince, Sirgon suddenly felt shaken. Even this brief contact was disturbing, he did not know why.

The prince stepped back with a grin. "How are you, old friend?" he asked.

"Well enough, _hîr nîn_," Sirgon answered, suddenly remembering his manners. "But I have missed the green wood greatly."

"My lord?" Legolas raised one golden eyebrow. "Since when have you become so formal with me? It was ever Legolas when we were growing up as I recall."

Sirgon blushed. "I was not certain of my standing with you after all this time," he replied honestly.

Legolas shook his head. "Old friends can dispense with formalities. Come, tell me what you will about Lothlórien."

He took Sirgon by the arm and led him to his chamber. There they passed several hours reminiscing about days gone by and exchanging stories of the years they had spent apart.

oOoOoOo

Sirgon easily slipped back into his former life. In some ways it was almost as if he had never left for he'd never forgotten the ways and wiles of a Wood-elf. After all, Lothlórien, too, was a woodland realm. But in other ways, he knew there had been changes. There were events in Greenwood that he knew little or nothing about. Things that had come to pass while he had lived in the Golden Wood.

Evil had marred the great forest. Darkness had come upon the once beloved woods with the rise of Dol Guldur in its southwestern reach. The great spiders were rapidly proliferating, orcs frequently came to the very borders of the forest itself and men of ill repute had become so bold as to dare the Wood-elves' wrath and arrows as they sought the reputed wealth of the Elvenking. Just such an incident had claimed the life of Legolas' mother nearly three hundred years ago.

Sirgon had left Eryn Galen, Greenwood the Great, and returned to Taur e-Ndaedelos, Forest of Great Fear, known in the Common Tongue as Mirkwood. Consequently, there were times when he felt left out, especially when those around him spoke of incidents or issues largely foreign to him.

Loneliness might have claimed him on these occasions if not for Legolas. Neither Melthoron nor Brethildor had the inclination to spend much time with him and Nimeithel naturally preferred the company of her maiden friends. And his old playmates, Heledir and Mithrael, were now tied to their own families and responsibilities and could not be with him as often as of old. But the youngest prince slowly drew him into the mainstream of Mirkwood court life. He was frequently there to keep him company, always including him in hunting trips, scouting expeditions and pleasure rides through the forest. It seemed that seldom a day passed that Sirgon did not spend at his friend's side. He had never been so contented or happy in his whole life.

Glossary:  
ethuil and laer – Sindarin for spring and summer

_To be continued_…


	23. Forbidden Fruit 2

_**Forbidden Fruit**  
by Eressë_

Chapter II  
It was nearly five years before the rhythm of his life was broken once more. Change descended on the Woodland Realm. Change in the forms of the sons of Elrond.

The brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, rode into Mirkwood in the fifth summer after Sirgon's return. Sirgon watched curiously from the great stone doors of the royal halls as the party of Rivendell Elves approached. He studied the brothers with interest. They, too, had changed, he realized. Their lineage shone through even more distinctly now that they were grown men. Fair of face and noble of carriage were the twin lords of Imladris.

Hardly had they brought their steeds to a stop when they swiftly dismounted. Sirgon's attention was drawn to Legolas as the prince moved forward to welcome the new arrivals. It was then that he was struck by the difference in the prince's demeanor with them.

As soon as he reached them, the two Elvenlords each drew him into a heartfelt embrace. And then Sirgon saw the prince's smile. He was beaming widely, his eyes sparkling with mirth. And when he laughed at some amusing remark Elladan uttered, it occurred to Sirgon that he'd never seen Legolas thus with any friend in the five years since his return to the Woodland Realm.

His face was transformed. He had dropped his customary restraint and was as open and merry as any Wood-elf under Thranduil's rule. As he led the twins into his father's halls, he fondly linked arms with them. Sirgon followed them, forgotten for the moment. The Elf felt a twinge of envy as he listened to their conversation.

"It has been long since your last visit, _gwedyr nîn_"—my sworn brothers—Sirgon heard Legolas say.

"Too long," Elladan agreed. "But you have not graced Imladris with your presence either for many a year."

"Aye, that is true, but my duties have kept me here. Dol Guldur's influence has been spreading. We have been hard-pressed to protect our borders."

"We have had news of that from Mithrandir," Elrohir said. "'Tis good that things have not been so evil this year. 'Twas not so difficult getting over the mountains."

"Well, even had it been, we still would have come," Elladan smiled. "Friendship is worth risking much for."

"That is heartwarming to hear," Legolas responded. "Perhaps I shall be able to get away for a spell and visit Imladris again." He suddenly stopped, pulling the brothers back with him. "Ai, I had forgotten. There is someone here you will wish to see." He turned of a sudden, making Sirgon start. "I believe you had the opportunity to meet Sirgon during your sojourns in Lothlórien?"

The twins' eyes widened at first sight of the lately returned Elf then both grinned warmly. "Sirgon! So you have indeed returned to Mirkwood," Elrohir said, going forward to grasp the other's hand in welcome.

Sirgon shyly nodded. He was not all that comfortable with Elrond's sons. He was always too conscious of their exalted lineage. He tried to smile a little more warmly as Elladan, too, greeted him with friendliness.

"You did not spend much time with us in the Golden Wood," the older twin told him. "Mayhap you will feel more at ease with us now that you are home. I dare say you were never truly content in Lórien."

Sirgon was surprised at Elladan's perceptiveness. He had not expected that either twin had guessed the reason behind his past reticence or sensed his longing to return to the Woodland Realm.

"Lothlórien is beautiful and enchanting," he finally managed to say. "But I never stopped yearning for Greenwood."

"Even with the shadow upon it?" Elladan queried.

"It is still home to me," Sirgon replied.

"Yet you lived far longer in Lórien than you ever did here," Elrohir remarked.

"'Twas my mother's home. I never quite felt that I belonged there," Sirgon said, feeling some annoyance at the other Elf's words. Why, he could not explain.

"Mayhap you missed your friends," Elrohir said gently. "All the times we saw you in the Golden Wood, you always seemed to be by yourself." He grinned at Legolas suddenly. "Surrounded by some of the most beauteous Elf-maids in Middle-earth and what does he do? Hie off into the trees to sing by himself!"

Sirgon flushed. So the twins had marked his solitude as well. Did nothing escape their eyes? Legolas was grinning as well.

"That explains something," he said. "I have been trying to get him to pay heed to the fair ones of Mirkwood to no avail. But if he, as you say, did not notice the maidens of Lórien, I now see why my efforts failed." The brothers chuckled in return.

Sirgon felt his stomach turn. For some unfathomable reason, he was disturbed by the prince's words. And he felt less at ease than ever seeing the others' amusement. He knew they were not laughing at him yet he could not stop himself from feeling hurt. And it did not help matters when Legolas linked arms with them once more as they proceeded deeper into the halls of the palace.

They had begun to speak of things they'd experienced together, adventures they'd shared, matters he had no knowledge of. Here and then their laughter punctuated the quiet of the corridors. And again Sirgon noted Legolas' demeanor. Unrestrained, merry, openly affectionate with the twins.

Logic told Sirgon that this should not surprise him. Elladan and Elrohir were the sons of Elrond, equals of the youngest prince of Northern Mirkwood whether in comeliness, heritage or power. With them Legolas had no need to maintain his reserve or guard his tongue. Logic told Sirgon that this was so. But logic could not still the sudden fit of jealousy that smote his heart.

Life in Mirkwood soon took a livelier turn as the twins made their presence well known. Maturity had not robbed them of their ebullience or wicked wit, which seemed to find expression each time they came to the green wood for a visit. It was quite befuddling considering what was known of their demeanor in Rivendell. Back home, they were the most dignified and dutiful of warrior princes, fiercely protective of the folk, Elven and otherwise, who looked to their family for guidance or safety, relentless in their dedication to maintaining the well-being and security of their valley realm and only rarely given to the pranks they had once been so famous for in their long-ago early youth. It was as if the necessary repression of their lively spirits in Rivendell impelled them to give said spirits full vent whenever they could throw off the encumbrances of their princely roles.

Thranduil was oft seen to roll his eyes in very unkingly fashion as many a tale reached his ears regarding the activities of his son and his noble guests. Nightfall would invariably herald one version or another of a growled, "What have I done that the Peredhel saw fit to foist his twin terrors upon me?" And on occasion he was heard to remark with exasperation, "Thank the Valar Legolas has no twin! I should pass sooner to Aman if there were two of him to plague me. For the life of me, I cannot fathom how Elrond and Celebrían have managed to keep Imladris from falling apart with those two around."

To Sirgon, though, it was not the brethren's predilection for mischief that soured his outlook toward them. It was their closeness to Legolas that kindled his dislike. Until their coming he had felt secure in the kindness his friend had shown him. Had admittedly felt some pride in the fact that Legolas seemed to spend more time with him than any of the other friends such as Mithrael and Heledir who had lived out their whole lives within his circle of influence.

Now he understood how naïve he had been. There was no comparing his friendship with Legolas and that which the prince enjoyed with the Imladrin lords. Indeed, they were closer than friends; they were sworn brothers. Together they formed a triumvirate that was so complete there was no place for others to try and fit in, not even the prince's own brothers. Sirgon felt the exclusion even when he was included in their activities.

He felt it most keenly during one hunting trip.

They travelled to the northernmost regions of Mirkwood, far from the glens of the great spiders that infested the south. After a successful day's hunt they set up camp in a secure clearing rather than make the long trek home in the dark. For Mirkwood by day could be very dark indeed and the forest by night was all but a lightless place.

Sirgon observed Legolas as he sat cross-legged beside Elrohir before the campfire. Elladan, cleaning his knife, had settled himself nearby. While the meats roasted, wine and ale were passed around and the group soon relaxed into merriment.

"I only wish it was not so dark and stuffy," Elrohir was heard to complain. "You cannot even see the stars from down here."

Legolas grinned. "Feeling a little hemmed in, my good Elf?"

"So would you had you been born and bred where the open sky is a constant and not a rare sight!" The raven-haired Elf shook his head. "I wonder that you do not feel the gloom about us. I have never gotten used to it."

"We must cheer you up then," Legolas said. "Stars we cannot offer you but music and song there is aplenty."

Responding to the prince's words, one of the Mirkwood Elves pulled out a flute and began to play it while another burst into a lively song. He was soon joined by others and the music of their fair voices filled the very air with enchantment. Before long, it was apparent that Elrohir's spirits had lifted for he was seen to smile and utter a jest or two.

Sirgon had not joined in the singing, content as he was to simply watch and listen. It was then that his life changed forever.

Just as the last song ended, a voice softly began another. The flutist swiftly took up the melody. Sirgon started when he realized to whom the voice belonged. It was Legolas.

Silence fell upon the group as they all turned to listen to their prince. Sirgon was entranced. He had never before heard Legolas sing alone. The sound of his clear melodious voice filled him with indescribable emotion.

Of a sudden, as Legolas ended one verse, Elrohir joined in with another. The song turned magical. Soon Sirgon realized they were singing in counterpoint to each other. And they were doing so with an ease that evidenced long familiarity with one another.

He felt his heart tighten. Here was the closeness he so longed for and could not be a part of. He drew his breath in sharply when a third voice joined in, adding yet another level of enchantment to the music. 'Twas Elladan, slipping in as smoothly and easily as his brother had done. The feeling of envy grew within Sirgon's chest.

They knew Legolas as well as he knew them, which was very well indeed. How often had they sung thusly together? How much time had they spent in each other's company? From the look and sound of it, more time than Sirgon could bear.

When the song ended, there was much praise and applause. Sirgon noticed that Legolas beckoned to Elladan to join him and Elrohir. But not himself he noted with a pang. In the twins' presence he had faded into the background. Legolas did not ignore him but he did not draw him into the intimacy of his relationship with the brothers either.

Sirgon could not help feeling resentful of the Elves who had stolen the prince's attention. He wished they would end their visit and depart from Mirkwood. He longed to settle once more into the comfortable rhythm of life where he was more often than not in Legolas' company. So deep was he in his pensive thoughts he did not realize the meats were done until they began to pass it around along with bread and fruit.

Sirgon watched as the younger twin leaned over to murmur something to the prince. Legolas burst out laughing. The sound made Sirgon swallow hard.

Elladan looked suspiciously at his brother and friend and demanded to know what they had found amusing. When his twin responded, the Elf was seen to gasp in outrage. To the vast amusement of the others, the brothers plunged into a rapid exchange of caustic barbs and pointed observations. Sirgon, not yet quite used to their ways, was alarmed at first but a look at the mirth of the others soon told him that this was but another episode in the continuing saga of the Rivendell twins.

Legolas was certainly enjoying himself, Sirgon noted. His eyes were bright with joy and his smile lit up his entire countenance. Sirgon stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Valar, he is even more beautiful than I first thought, he realized. It was at that moment that Legolas turned his head and looked in Sirgon's direction.

Their eyes met. Sirgon held his breath as, in that brief moment, Legolas smiled at him, not with princely if gentle reserve as was his wont but with the same openness and merriment that he bestowed upon the twins. And then the moment ended and he turned back to his friends.

But Sirgon continued to stare. For him the spell was still strong. What has happened to me? he wondered. He could not tear his eyes from the prince, found himself hungrily studying his every feature, the lines of his form, and the grace of his every movement. For the first time, something else stirred within him. As he recognized the feeling, his wonder changed to fear and the fear swiftly evolved into panic.

I should not feel this way, he thought with dread. I should not desire him!

The twin's combat of wits had ended in a draw. With a chuckle, Legolas relaxed and leaned back against Elladan who automatically curled a supporting arm around the prince's shoulder. Elrohir pulled a strip of meat from his roast venison and offered it to Legolas. Instead of taking it with his fingers, the prince grinned and let his friend pop it into his mouth.

Jealousy flared hot in Sirgon's heart. The extent of their closeness wounded him. He found everything the brothers did to have hidden meaning and it irritated him no end.

He was annoyed by the sight of Elladan's arm wrapped so familiarly around Legolas' shoulders; did not approve of the way Elrohir's fingers lightly touched the prince's lips as he fed him bits of roast meat and bread. He scowled as Elladan bent over to whisper into Legolas' ear, his lips close to the other's face, his words bringing the light of mischief into the prince's azure eyes. And when Elrohir came up with some well-placed jibe at his brother, he felt his heart constrict as Legolas laughingly clapped his hand over the younger twin's mouth lest another word war begin.

Small observations they were yet they loomed overly large in his thoughts. He had discovered something about himself and he did not know what to do about it.

He loved Legolas. Nay, that was not right. He, Sirgon, was _in_ love with the youngest prince of the Woodland Realm. That was why he was desperately jealous of the brethren. He had lost his heart to the most unlikely person of all.

The question was, what was he to do about it? Indeed, what _could_ he do about it?

_To be continued_…


	24. Forbidden Fruit 3

_**Forbidden Fruit**_   
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
The gardens behind the royal pavilion rang with shouts of encouragement and laughter. An impromptu archery contest had been set up amongst Elladan, Elrohir, Heledir, the warrior maid, Tathariel and a few others. Legolas had been sternly ordered to stay on the sidelines.

"It is no contest when you compete," Elladan pointed out. "You will only outstrip us all."

"Nay, you rate my skill too highly," Legolas protested. "There are far better archers than myself."

"If there are, I do not see them here," retorted Elladan. "We will be fair about this, _gwador_."—sworn brother. "You will not compete!"

The Rivendell twins had then proceeded to belie their claims of lack of skill. By the end of the contest they had proven their mastery. True to form, they accepted the approbation of the spectators with many a mock bow, which only drew more applause and mirth.

From the windows of his study, Thranduil observed them with some relief. At least, they were not indulging in some stomach-churning prank this golden morn. Since their arrival, they had already pulled off more than he could swallow with grace. Any more and he would be hard pressed to maintain his dignity as a king. He gestured to his companion to join him at the window. Beldoron came up beside him.

"Your son is very much a part of their circle," the king said indulgently. "That should gladden your heart."

"Yes, majesty," Beldoron replied. "It is good to see that he will not be alone when I depart."

Thranduil sighed. "You are determined to leave for the Havens then?"

His counsellor turned sad eyes on him. "'Tis not the same since my wife left this life. I feel weary, sire, and long for some solace in the West. And mayhap we will be reunited soon should the Powers grant it."

Thranduil nodded. "I understand. You are fortunate, my friend, that you have the liberty to go when you will. If I had a choice, I, too, would depart this lands and seek my wife in Eldamar."

"Is Prince Melthoron not ready for the throne, _hîr nîn_?"—my lord?—Beldoron queried.

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. "Melthoron is too much my father's grandson. Ill-tempered and full of pride," the king said. "Brethildor is not much better. He is good-natured but cares little for the running of this kingdom. He is a warrior first and foremost." He glanced at his advisor and grimaced. "There are times I think it a pity that Legolas is not my firstborn and heir. He has grown in stature and wisdom and is beloved of the people." He frowned suddenly. "I have spoken too freely," he said. He wagged a finger at the other Elf. "I trust you will not divulge this to anyone, old friend."

Beldoron smiled and said reassuringly, "Your sentiments are safe with me, _aran nîn_."—my king. "I, too, worry about the welfare of this realm."

After the counsellor had taken his leave, the king turned to the window once more. He saw his youngest son now take up his knife to spar with Elrohir. Paternal pride filled him as he watched Legolas move with lethal grace and deadly skill. Parrying, thrusting, stroke and counterstroke. It was a joy to observe him and Elrohir as they matched each other. That was when he noticed Sirgon.

It was the intent stare of the young Elf that drew the king's attention. A stare that focused on the prince with singular concentration. Thranduil frowned. There was something about the look in Sirgon's eyes. Admiration there was, of course, and the encouragement of a friend. But what else was there?

He looked at the other spectators. They were mostly male but there were several Elf-women scattered among them. Naturally, they were not so much interested in the match as they were in the combatants. Adoring eyes alighted on either the golden-maned prince or the raven-haired lord. And a few gazed upon them with more than just adoration. Desire was in their eyes either for one or the other.

That was when it struck Thranduil. It was not unlike what he had seen in Sirgon's unwavering stare. Only that stare was not leveled at some fair maid but at Legolas! The King mentally recoiled at the thought.

_By Elbereth, what is Sirgon thinking?_

In Rivendell, Lothlórien and the Grey Havens, where lords of Eldarin persuasion ruled, the ancient ways thrived. Elves' preferences were of no consequence and some ultimately chose their own kind to mate with. Such passions were intrinsic to elven nature after all. Indeed, life-long relationships of _Edhil_ of the same kind were sanctified in ritual bindings and were considered as true as unions between Elf-males and Elf-maids.

But Mirkwood was a bastion of Silvan culture though its ruling family was of the Sindar. As such, Thranduil was of a more constrained bent of mind, as were his people. He did not doubt that there were pockets of those who had different passions from the rest of the population and he certainly did not forbid their choices. But at least, they are discreet and do not flaunt their desires as this Elf does, the Elvenking thought indignantly. And for my own son yet!

His first impulse was to have Sirgon brought to him that he might question him. But then the king remembered that Sirgon's father was leaving Mirkwood within the week. Beldoron had been so relieved that his son was among friends and would not be alone.

Thranduil scowled. Suspicious he may be about Sirgon's intentions but he had a great regard for Beldoron and did not want to distress his erstwhile counsellor. I will speak with Legolas about this after Beldoron leaves, he decided. Surely, nothing can possibly happen in such a short period of time.

Could Thranduil have foreseen the events to come he might have changed his mind and bundled Sirgon off to the fastness of Lothlorien within the hour. Unfortunately, the foresight of the Firstborn is not always absolute and even then events have a way of overtaking one's best efforts.

Three afternoons later, Sirgon found himself luxuriating in a rare stroll with Legolas. He had not had the chance to be alone with the prince since the twins' arrival and he now made the most of it. They were in the woods behind the royal stables, following the long path that cut through the forest to one of the tributary streams of the Forest River.

They said little, content to just make their way among the ancient trees, enjoying the warm sun for here the forest was not so close. Sirgon could not help glancing frequently at his companion though, mesmerized as he was by his uncommon beauty. He did so surreptitiously so as not to attract the other's notice. He was therefore taken aback when Legolas suddenly gazed at him with patent curiosity.

"You keep looking at me," the archer commented. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Sirgon faltered. "I-that is to say—" he stammered.

He was saved from making any further attempts at replying when they heard a great shout followed by the sounds of something crashing through the brush. Before either Elf could move, two figures burst from the thick greenery and collided with them.

Stunned, Legolas found himself on his back with Elrohir atop him while to his side, Sirgon was entangled with Elladan. The twins, in turn, stared at their unintentional victims with surprise. In the distance, the sound of furious neighing could be discerned.

"_Geheno nin, Calenlassen!_" Elrohir gasped as he tried to extricate himself from his friend. Forgive me, my Greenleaf!

Sirgon felt a stab of intense jealousy upon hearing the twin's use of such an affectionate, not to mention intimate endearment with the prince. He thrust Elladan off himself with startling vehemence. Quickly rising, he turned and grasped Elrohir by the arm. As the Elvenlord was already rising to his feet, it was with surprise that he felt Sirgon's tight grip on his arm and even greater shock when the former forcefully yanked him off Legolas. His sharp, "Get off him!" was all that was needed to render everyone momentarily speechless with bafflement.

Legolas wondered at his friend's temper as the latter pulled him up. But before he could speak, Sirgon turned on Elrohir in fury. "You could have hurt him!" he snapped. "Ever have you and your brother cared only for your own pleasures without regard for others!"

"Hold, Sirgon!" Elrohir said angrily. "'Twas an accident. You have no right to speak to us so!"

"Oh no? What were you doing that you should stray from the path? Up to mischief again, no doubt!"

Elladan spoke up coldly. "Watch your manners, Elf. Common courtesy requires that you allow us to speak in our defense!"

Sirgon swiftly turned to him, scathing words ready to issue from his lips. But Legolas quickly got between the two, pushing them away from each other.

"Enough!" he exclaimed, bewildered by the sudden hostility. He turned to Sirgon with a frown. "Elrohir is right. 'Twas but an accident. No one was hurt, least of all myself. There is no need to be so upset."

Sirgon mutinously pursed his lips. "You would take their part," he responded hotly. "And why not? After all, I am just the son of a mere counsellor!"

He turned on his heel and walked rapidly away leaving the others to stare after him in bemusement.

"What ails him?" Elrohir commented. "He even turned on you, Legolas, and that is not a thing I would have expected him to do."

"I do not know," Legolas answered. "He has been troubled of late but he has not confided his problem to me." He looked at the twins. "What _were_ you doing off the path?"

Elladan sighed. "We heard of the new stallion your father purchased and were told that it roams the woods at will. We tracked it to see for ourselves if 'tis as magnificent as word has it."

Elrohir took up the tale. "We found it near the stream and attempted to come as near to it as we could. 'Twas then that we discovered why 'tis still unbroken. I had not imagined that there were any horses that would not cooperate with an Elf!"

"In other words, it chased you here," Legolas grinned.

"We barely got out of its way as it is," Elladan said.

"'Tis hardly our fault that you and Sirgon got in ours!" Elrohir added. "I have never seen him so angry and for so petty a reason."

Legolas nodded, his grin fading. "Yes, it is strange. I cannot fathom what is wrong."

Elladan was about to say something when he suddenly stopped, an expression of surprised enlightenment on his face.

"And what ails _you_, _muindor_?"—brother?—Elrohir asked, noticing his twin's reaction.

"I just realized what may be troubling Sirgon," Elladan answered thoughtfully. "Legolas, I believe he is jealous!"

"Jealous?" Legolas stared at him. "Of whom?"

"Elrohir and me," Elladan replied. "Have you not noticed of late how he regards us? I would wager that he wishes we would end our stay here and leave Mirkwood soonest."

"But why?" Elrohir demanded. "What have we done to gain his rancor?"

"Not what we have done but what we have not done." He glanced at Legolas. "We have not given him the chance to be with you as much as he would like, I think."

Legolas was surprised but after considering the matter, he nodded in agreement. "Aye, that is so. Since his return from Lothlórien, I have kept him close by my side to make him feel welcome. But your coming has altered that and I have scarcely been with him these past many weeks."

Elrohir frowned. "'Tis not as if he will not have you to himself when we leave, Legolas. There is no need for him to be hostile." He was still smarting at Sirgon's rough handling.

Legolas clasped a soothing hand on the younger twin's shoulder. "There is no need," he agreed. "I will speak with him about the matter." They heard once more a wild neighing, much closer than it had been before. Legolas chuckled. "Come, we had best head back before my father's esteemed stallion decides to continue its game with you!"

But it was not until a few days later that Legolas got his chance to talk to Sirgon. The following dawn found the prince with Elladan as they stalked the stallion, a beautiful chestnut beast. The animal had gone to the stream for a drink and this was where the two Elves found it. They crouched in the thick brush observing it with some apprehension.

Neither noticed the dark figure in the trees watching them in turn. There was no need to be on guard in these parts for the woods behind Thranduil's halls were well secured against evil from without. Sirgon silently observed the two, wondering what they planned to do, envious of Elladan's proximity to Legolas and hurt that he had not been asked to join them.

For their part, the two Elves were wondering about the stallion's surprising independence. It was rare for a horse to resist the beguilement of the Elves. For some reason, this one had. No one had ridden it yet, not even the king. And it had repeatedly tried to break out of the stables upon its arrival. Whereupon Thranduil had ordered it to be set loose so that it would not do injury to itself. It roamed the forest behind the palace, hemmed in only by enchantment and the vigilance of the Mirkwood guards.

"I do not know why I let you talk me into this," Legolas groused.

"Because you could never turn down a chance at adventure, _ernil daur_?"—forest prince?—Elladan whispered.

Legolas scowled at him. "If we end up in the house of healing again, my father will flay us alive."

"I have heard that threat so many times I almost wish he would just carry it out and be done with it."

"How is it that Elrohir had more sense than you today and refused to get out of bed?"

"Elrohir had a late night, if you must know. A very late night with one of his maidenly admirers."

"Hush!"

The stallion was done with its drink and was headed their way. The two Elves tensed as it suddenly halted, whinnying softly as if it sensed something was not right. It began to toss its head, eyes darting around as if looking for something.

"Move," Legolas whispered urgently. "I do not like the look in its eyes."

They silently crept away as quickly as possibly, Elladan somewhat ahead of Legolas.

But just as it seemed that they would get away unscathed, the horse reared up, snorting angrily. With terrible suddenness, it plunged forward and broke into a gallop heading straight at Legolas.

Legolas knew that he would never be able to outrun the stallion, not when it was bearing down on him so quickly. Scrambling to his feet, he turned to face it instead.

"Legolas!" Elladan shouted in dismay. What was his friend doing?

A short distance behind him, Sirgon had jumped to his feet, his heart pounding with fear. He began to plunge through the brush, wanting to protect Legolas but not quite knowing what he could do.

At the last possible moment before the horse could run him down, the prince jumped to one side, grasped it by its mane and vaulted onto its back. Immediately, it began to buck. Legolas gritted his teeth and hung on for dear life.

Sirgon stared in astonishment. Even in his fear he had not failed to notice the startling grace of Legolas' movements in mounting the horse. It filled him with awe, as did the prince's strength and determination that kept him astride the animal when all others would have been thrown off. The feeling of wanting grew ever stronger within him.

Just when Legolas thought he could hold on no longer, the horse stopped. Surprised, the prince looked down at the suddenly quiescent beast then glanced up at a stunned Elladan. Afraid he would be noticed, Sirgon quickly hid himself once more.

Warily, Legolas dismounted, half expecting the animal to go wild once more and therefore readied himself for flight. But instead the stallion turned its head toward him and gently whinnied. Disbelievingly, Legolas reached out in wonder and stroked its noble face and neck. The horse nuzzled his hand with its nose.

Elladan stared at them in amazement. With understandable hesitation, he neared them. But the stallion did not flinch at his approach and simply contented itself with being stroked by the prince.

"How did you do that?" Elladan asked in a hushed voice. He raised his hand to the animal and found that his touch was now tolerated.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Legolas admitted.

"You could have been killed, you crazy Elf!" Elladan pointed out. "Why ever did you do it?"

"It was either ride or be trampled," Legolas retorted. "I did not have much time to think, _gwador_." He smiled at the animal. "Mayhap it wanted to choose its rider and not the other way around."

Elladan glanced at him and smiled back. "Mayhap." Or perhaps the beast had simply fallen under his friend's spell.

oOoOoOo

Thranduil and his three other children stared in astonishment as they watched the stallion approach the royal halls, bearing Legolas and Elladan. And they were not the only ones. Many gathered to see for themselves that the king's youngest son had indeed tamed the heretofore untamable beast.

Thranduil looked at his son with an expression that defied description. Knowing Legolas and coupling that knowledge with Elladan's presence, he just knew the two had barely escaped disaster. Before Legolas could speak, he shook his head and simply announced, "Whatever you did, do not tell me! And, yes, since you tamed him, you may have him."

Beside him, Brethildor and Nimeithel smiled in admiration at their brother but Melthoron pouted in envy. Legolas saw his oldest brother's expression and barely managed to suppress a smirk. Elladan, however, had no such compunctions and blatantly snickered at the Crown Prince's reaction as he and Legolas dismounted. That earned him a glare, which he blithely ignored as he grinned at the youngest Thranduilion.

Sirgon watched the proceedings from behind the King. He'd hurried away after ascertaining that Legolas was safe. However, he had not expected them to ride the stallion back. He'd been taken unawares when they had returned astride the animal, Elladan behind Legolas. The Elf-warrior, not quite trusting the horse, had wrapped his arms rather tightly around the prince. That the older twin had done so out of precaution and nothing else did not soothe Sirgon's ruffled feelings at all.

He felt misery well up within him and resentment toward Elrond's older son. Unguarded, he did not realize that Legolas had seen him until he looked up and met the archer's eyes. Flushing, he lowered his head but, by then, Legolas had seen his unhappiness.

What troubles him? The prince wondered. He was not only miserable but he looked quite capable of murdering Elladan. _I must speak with him soon_.

Glossary:  
Thranduilion - son of Thranduil

_To be continued_…


	25. Forbidden Fruit 4

**AN:** When I wrote _Greenleaf & Imladris_ two years ago, I used the word 'duality' in lieu of the much too modern sounding term 'bisexuality'. I felt it was more in keeping with the manner of speech of Middle-earth. I've since noticed the use of the word in various LotR slash stories. The authors of said stories may or may not have borrowed the term from G I have no problem with that. But I do want to make it clear that it is by no means canonical and neither is the explanation in this chapter regarding same-sex relationships among the Firstborn. The latter is strictly a product of my imagination and only suggests the possible whys and wherefores of Elven bisexuality if it existed in the amazing world J.R.R. Tolkien created.

_**Forbidden Fruit**  
by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
Beldoron departed for the Havens the following morning, leaving his son nearly inconsolable. Were it not for the kindly attentions of the royal children, his friends and the twins, his parting from his father might have been unbearable. As it was, even the normally haughty Melthoron found it in his heart to show some compassion for his brother's friend. And the twins apparently put Sirgon's display of pique behind them and rallied behind him in his time of bereavement.

It was evening when all but Legolas left the Elf's dwelling. The archer remained behind, certain his friend still needed company. They sat companionably in the small, enclosed garden behind the house, drinking Dorwinion wine that Legolas had thought to bring with him from his father's cellar. After a while, Legolas reached over and stopped Sirgon from filling his cup once more.

"You are drinking too much, _mellonen_"—my friend—Legolas reproved mildly.

Sirgon flushed. He could not deny that he had imbibed a little more than he was used to though he was not yet inebriated either. However, he did feel somewhat light-headed. He glanced at Legolas and realized the prince was studying him with some concern. Too beautiful for his own good, he thought of a sudden. He set bottle and cup down with trembling fingers. The motion was not missed by the other.

"Are you all right?" Legolas inquired. "You seem overwrought about something other than your father's departure."

Sirgon shook his head. "'Tis nothing. I am well."

"Are you?" The prince moved closer to him, blue eyes limned with worry. "You are keeping something to yourself, Sirgon. I have noticed your behavior of late."

"I do not know what you mean," Sirgon replied, apprehension beginning to flare up within him.

Legolas pursed his lips, considering his next words. "The twins think you are jealous of them," he stated evenly. "Are they right?"

Sirgon gaped at the archer in shock. Again the Rivendell lords had proven all too perceptive. "I-I—" he stuttered.

Legolas raised a golden eyebrow. "So, they are right," he murmured. He sighed. "I am sorry, I did not realize how left out you must have felt these past weeks."

Sirgon swallowed hard. His thoughts and feelings were in a tumult. The prince had touched on the matter but had not perceived its core. He did not yet understand the true reason for Sirgon's jealousy.

Ordinarily, Sirgon would have prudently held his tongue. But the wine seemed to have done its fair share in loosening it for he suddenly asked, "Just how close are you to the twins?"

Legolas was surprised. "They are my best friends, my sworn brothers," he replied.

"Nay, I mean, are they more than that to you?" Sirgon pressed on a little incautiously.

"More?" The archer frowned in puzzlement. "What do you mean by that?"

Unable to keep his turbulent thoughts bottled any longer, Sirgon blurted out: "Have you been intimate with either of them?"

Legolas stared at him, his jaw dropping open. For a moment, he was speechless at the totally unexpected query. "Intimate as in have I bedded either of them?" he finally managed to say.

Sirgon reddened with shame at the other's reaction but nodded nevertheless. He was beyond prudence now.

Legolas let out his breath. "I have never bedded a male Elf, much less either of the twins." He cocked a curious eye at his companion. "I know that in Imladris, the practice is more common. I would not be surprised if either Elladan or Elrohir have experienced such loving. But Mirkwood is different. I have not even thought of it at all."

"Yet there are many who desire you who are not maidens," Sirgon pointed out.

Legolas sat back, folding his arms. "So I am told," he responded. "I would not forbid them but neither would I encourage or respond to their overtures. But in truth, none have ever dared approach me thus and I doubt that any will have the courage to do so."

"But would you ever consider intimacy with an _ellon_?"—male Elf?

Legolas snorted a little amusedly. "I might, given the right incentive. I am not averse to experimentation so long as 'tis not forced upon me. Why in Elbereth's name are you asking these questions?"

Sirgon sucked his breath in sharply. Now that it had come down to it, he did not know how to broach the truth. He stared at Legolas, desperately wondering how to explain to his friend how he felt. Something of his feelings must have made itself visible in his eyes for the prince suddenly looked back at him with a slight frown.

"Sirgon?" the archer said warily. "What have you been concealing from me?"

Sirgon hesitated, his whole body trembling. It was now or never. There might not be another opportunity for him to reveal his feelings to Legolas. Certainly not another chance that he would be brave enough even if the courage had come from too many cups of Dorwinion wine. But unable to put his feeling into coherent words for his tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth, he decided to express them in action instead.

He leaned forward and kissed Legolas nervously on the lips. The prince started then jerked back in shock. He stared at Sirgon incredulously. "No, you can't..." he whispered in disbelief.

"But I do, Legolas," Sirgon half-groaned. "I couldn't – can't help myself. I love you, _ernilen_."—my prince.

Legolas shuddered at the naked emotion in Sirgon's voice. It was not that he looked askance on those that loved their own kind. He was of the opinion that everyone was entitled to their own passions so long as no harm came of them and none was compelled against one's wishes into answering those needs. For his part, he simply fended off any advances not to his liking without bearing any ill will towards the initiator. Though as he'd earlier stated, he'd never encountered advances from other male Elves and therefore had virtually no experience in that area.

But now it had happened and with a friend at that. He did not know how to respond to the situation. The ingrained conviction not to hurt someone he cared for warred with the panicked instinct to remove himself from a most uncomfortable situation as soon as possible.

Sirgon misread his hesitation though. Hope, however faint, grew in his heart and he cupped Legolas' face to kiss him once more.

Panic won out over conviction and Legolas reared out of his grasp. The prince rose hastily to his feet, panting a little shakily, eyes wide with warning. "_Avo, _Sirgon!"—Don't!—he gasped. "I would not have our friendship ruined."

"I am sorry," Sirgon all but sobbed. "But I cannot stop how I feel! Believe me, I have tried so hard but the feeling remains."

Legolas drew a deep breath, tried to calm his suddenly erratically beating heart. "I-I do not take this against you," he finally said. "But I do not know how to cope with this. Indeed, I do not even know how I should feel."

Sirgon swallowed hard. "In Lothlórien, such things need no explaining," he mumbled.

"But this is not Lothlórien," Legolas pointed out. "I am not used to this. I need time to think."

"Think about what?" Sirgon pressed on a little desperately. "Would you consider it then?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, that I cannot do. 'Tis not my inclination."

"But you said that given the right incentive, you might try it." When the prince shook his head again, Sirgon said bitterly, "I wager if I were one of the twins you would consider that incentive enough!"

Legolas was taken aback by the other's assertion. After a momentary pause, he sighed. "I cannot tell if you are right or wrong in that assumption for I do not know what I would consider the 'right' incentive. Suffice to say I cannot do this for you. I cannot love you as more than a friend."

"Then I am lost," Sirgon choked. "For I cannot purge myself of this love I hold for you."

Legolas blew his breath out. "Mayhap we should keep apart for a while," he quietly suggested. "I may have done you harm by keeping you by my side, encouraging your affections for me."

Sirgon looked away. "As you wish, _hir nîn_."—my lord.

Legolas started to reach out a consoling hand to the other Elf's shoulder then thought better of it. With a sorrowful glance at the disconsolate Elf, he departed.

oOoOoOo

"What will I do?" Legolas almost wailed as he paced the floor of Elladan's chamber restlessly.

He had immediately gone in search of the brethren after leaving Sirgon's home and, having found them, dragged them to the closest bedchamber, which happened to belong to the older twin. Hardly giving them time to settle down, he had launched into a detailed narrative regarding the upsetting incident with the other Elf.

The twins watched him walk to and fro, heads turning as he did. Finally Elrohir said: "Legolas, please sit down. You are making us dizzy!"

The prince abruptly plopped down in the armchair opposite the couch the twins were sitting in. He looked from one brother to the other. They were sprawled on the couch watching him in turn.

"Well? Are you not going to help me?" Legolas demanded.

The brothers glanced at each other. Elladan leaned forward and spread his hands questioningly.

"Exactly what help do you need of us?" he asked. "You do not return his passion. There is nothing anyone can do about that."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "'Tis not what I mean!" he exclaimed. "How do I deal with his attraction to me in the first place?" He clenched his hands on his lap. "He-he spoke as if it were the most normal thing in Arda to love me!"

Elrohir stole a look at his brother. "Well, it is," he said.

Legolas stared at him stupefied. "What?"

"There is nothing unnatural about what he feels for you," the younger twin elucidated. "What is tragic is that you do not have the same passion for him and, being his friend, will now feel uncomfortable in his company, knowing what you do about his feelings."

The prince shook his head, clearly taken aback. "You speak as if it were normal for Elves to... to be capable of such feelings," he said.

"Because it is," Elladan put it. "Why are you so shocked? You have seen it with your own eyes in Imladris."

"But I thought 'twas but a limited occurrence," Legolas replied. "You make it seem as if the mating of two Elves of the same kind is as natural as that of Elf-male and Elf-maiden."

"'Tis our Noldorin ancestry, I fear," Elladan smiled. "We have held to the ancient path as your people did not."

"That term..." Legolas stared at them. "I remember now. You used it once long ago but Lord Elrond interrupted before you could explain further."

"Neither he nor your father felt you were ready for such a revelation at the time," Elladan admitted.

Legolas looked patently displeased. "Well, please explain now," he pleaded. "What is the ancient path? What does it entail?"

Elladan nodded and continued. "Those who follow it consider such relationships valid so long as they are not the result of coercion or force. Think, Legolas, in Elvenhome, the Eldar have flourished for uncounted ages. There is no fear of the _Edhil_ dying out, no obligation to constantly perpetuate our immortal race. With that freedom, the need to take a mate for the sake of conception and birth is not paramount. In Aman, one may take a spouse, bind with one's own kind or take no mate at all if that is one's desire."

"The old ways made no distinctions between one choice or the other," Elrohir took up the tale. "Only rape, incest, infidelity between living lifemates and the taking of children are considered unholy and, therefore, forbidden. But as for same-kind lifemates... well, our kin did not abandon the ancient path when they returned to Middle-earth as yours understandably did."

"Understandably?"

"Your history shows that the Silvan Elves and some of the Sindar first began to discourage the binding of male and male spirit and likewise female and female after the High Kindred departed for Aman," Elrohir explained, resorting to a scholarly manner to lessen Legolas' discomfort. "In the need to survive and flourish amidst the vagaries of life in Middle-earth, your forebears became less obliging about practices that would inhibit rather than promote the births of future generations of Elves. And when evil came to these shores, it became even more imperative that the ancient practice be limited though 'twas still deemed acceptable if that was truly what was desired. What was unexpected was the move by your grandfather, Oropher, to actively proscribe such passions amongst the Sindar he ruled and then in Greenwood. It eventually came to be considered aberrant amongst the younger generations of Elves in your kingdom."

"And with the passing of many of the older Elves either by attrition or the choice to sail West, so did much of the memories and knowledge of the past vanish as well," Elladan pointed out.

"But Lórien?" Legolas questioned. "Some of our kindred removed there long ago. Yet you have said 'tis no matter in the Golden Wood."

"That had much to do with our grandparents," Elrohir smiled. "Under their rule, any lingering objections to the old traditions simply faded away. 'Tis only here in Mirkwood that the prohibition remains, Legolas."

"We do not have your _gwaith's_ unease with those who love their own kind," Elladan concluded. "We have witnessed such bindings and see nothing out of the ordinary about them. But after all 'tis the joining of two spirits that matters regardless of the bodies that house them. If we think ill of Sirgon's desire 'tis because it has laid a great burden upon you, _gwador_."—sworn brother.

Legolas sat back feeling more confused than ever. "Strange that we never talked at length about such matters before," he remarked. "I have since discovered that it does occur in Mirkwood, though very discreetly. And, as you pointed out, I have certainly seen evidence of it in Imladris. But I never thought to discuss it with you in full."

"Why should you?" Elrohir pointed out. "As long as it did not directly affect you, it was something you had no cause to even think about."

"But now it _has_ directly affected me and I do not know what to do." Legolas sighed. He glanced at the twins and, on the heels of sudden curiosity, almost shyly asked: "Have either of you...?" His cheeks stained a faint hue of red.

Two elegant pairs of sable eyebrows rose in amusement at his hesitation. "Since when have you been so timid to ask us about such things?" Elladan grinned.

Legolas scowled. "Since now that I am entangled in something I know nothing about save for hearsay and an occasional glimpse!" he retorted, his cheeks burning fiercely.

The twins chuckled sympathetically.

"If you must know, aye, we have," Elrohir replied. "We would never turn down the opportunity to try something pleasurable."

"So long as 'tis not forbidden," Elladan added.

Legolas stared at his friends. It was difficult to imagine either twin in the company of a male lover. He knew them so well, their carnal appetites included. He wondered if they enjoyed such liaisons.

"Aye, we do," Elladan snickered, easily reading the question in the prince's eyes. Legolas closed them in embarrassment.

"Why so uncomfortable, _gwador_?" Elrohir inquired. "We have talked about much more intimate matters before."

Legolas eyes snapped open. He let out his breath in frustration. "'Tis only because this... subject is so... so..."

"Beyond your body of experience and knowledge," Elladan finished for him with a comforting smile.

Legolas nodded. He regarded the twins with mingled wonder and renewed curiosity. "How can you enjoy it?" he blurted out. "You have always desired female-kind and regardless of race it would seem."

The brethren looked at him in surprise then sighed in tandem as the full extent of their friend's unawareness of the ancient ways became starkly apparent.

"Calenlass, 'tis not something acquired but is part of _all_ _Edhil_ from birth," Elrohir explained. "Since the awakening of the Firstborn by the shores of Cuivienen, the choice of a mate was never based on gender but on mutual attraction between two Elves, regardless of kind. All Elves are capable of loving both ways. 'Tis our nature."

"Indeed, you might say that all Elves are capable of losing their innocence twice should they desire it," Elladan added with a faint smile. "For the loving of a female is vastly different from a male's; to this we can attest."

Legolas stared at them in shock. "But I haven't... I don't..." He found himself stuttering and visibly took hold of himself. "If that is so, then why have _I_ never felt attracted to another male?" he demanded.

"Because of the culture in which you were raised," Elladan pointed out. "You were taught that 'tis not desirable, therefore, you never entertained the idea. I dare say that you have been attracted to other _ellyn_"—male Elves—"but you dismissed such feelings as admiration or hero worship at most."

Legolas was dumbstruck as the truth of Elladan's words hit home. "'Tis true, I have known such feelings," he acknowledged grudgingly. "But nothing more. Indeed, I have never even thought about it."

"We are all products of our upbringing," Elrohir elaborated. "If you consider something unnatural, you can hardly be expected to give it any thought. Your father and his generation lived through that time when the ban was declared and know of the ancient path. But Elves as young as you would not. And you can hardly expect the elders to suddenly change their course and tell you about it. That said, we think your father's tolerance of such practices within Mirkwood admirable."

Legolas shrugged. "Well, 'tis not as if it is their fault for feeling the way they do," he commented. He blinked as the meaning of his words registered on him.

"Exactly," Elladan said gently. "They cannot resist where their love leads them."

Legolas sat back with a deep exhale. "Forgive me, but I find this rather overwhelming," he admitted. "'Tis difficult to believe that what you say about our nature is true."

"Yet we are very much alike to the Powers themselves and they, too, possess this duality," Elladan said.

"The Valar!" Legolas was aghast. "But who—?"

"Tulkas the Valiant who is wed to fleetfooted Nessa, sister of Oromë. Yet he has great love for Fionwë, the son of Manwë and Elbereth." (0)

"How do you know this?" the archer demanded incredulously.

"Three unimpeachable sources told us," Elrohir grinned. "Our grandmother, Galadriel, Gildor Inglorion, and our own Glorfindel. They saw this with their own eyes when they lived in the Blessed Realm."

Smirking at their friend's awed expression, Elladan said: "So you see, 'tis no jape we play on you."

The prince sighed. "Be that as it may, I cannot do anything for Sirgon. I am not attracted to him in _that_ way. Indeed, I can never be attracted to any male even should the Valar themselves send one to tempt me!"

The twins half-gasped, half-chortled at his near-blasphemy.

"You would oppose the Valar's will? Beware, Legolas," Elrohir warned. "'Tis perilous to speak thusly. The Powers may very well lead you down the path just to punish you for gainsaying them!"

Legolas stared at the twins with such horror that the brothers burst out laughing. After a few mirthful moments, Elladan managed to catch his breath.

"Ai, if you could just see your face," he chuckled. "But, in truth, there is nothing to be afraid of. Given your upbringing and the prejudice against such passions in Mirkwood, 'tis most unlikely that you will suddenly develop a taste for male-flesh. I dare say it would probably take an Elf chosen by fate itself to arouse that part of you that slumbers. And even if he exists, 'tis highly improbable that your paths would cross so providentially." He smiled wickedly as Legolas began to relax in relief. "However, if he were to appear and beckon to you, I fear you will _not_ be able to resist his allure for that is also part of our nature!"

His cheeks flaming anew, Legolas glowered at him with such murderous intensity, the twins promptly dissolved into another bout of hilarity.

Glossary:  
Edhil - Elves  
gwaith – a people or ethnic group

(0) Paraphrased from _The Lost Road and Other Writings_, Chapter VI: Quenta Silmarillion – (1) Of the Valar

_To be continued_…


	26. Forbidden Fruit 5

_**Forbidden Fruit**  
by Eressë_

Chapter V  
Sirgon watched as Legolas and the twins came out of the delved halls to join the hunting party gathered outside. But then the prince's eyes fell upon him and he suddenly frowned and halted in his tracks. A moment later, he was in retreat, attempting to draw the brethren along with him. But the two held back and were seen to discuss something with him. Sirgon flushed painfully. He did not know what Elladan and Elrohir were saying to Legolas but he knew full well why the archer had sought to turn back.

It was now a full week since their ill-starred encounter. In all that time, Legolas had assiduously avoided him. Sirgon could not blame him. What he had done, what he had confessed, had placed a barrier between them.

A murmur of surprise startled him out of his musings and he glanced up to see the brethren part with the prince and continue on their way to join the hunters. That was highly unusual. When visiting the Woodland Realm, neither Elladan nor Elrohir ever took part in patrols or hunts without Legolas. While one or the other of the twins might forego the prince's company on occasion, for both to do so was very rare. Most of the time, the three of them were virtually inseparable.

The party set off. The stock of meats in the palace larder was running low and they were tasked to bring home enough game for the next five days or so. Part of the bounty would be cured or dried for future use. The rest would be cooked while still fresh, which meant there would be some feasting upon the hunters' return.

A day's passage proved gratifying for the party. By nightfall, they had brought down two stags, one wild boar and a variety of smaller game such as rabbit, pheasant and quail. In the morning, they moved on in search of more prey, leaving a few Elves to guard and prepare the cache for transport back to the palace.

Sirgon noted the twins' continued dislike of Mirkwood's darkness. He could only imagine how different the closeness of the forest was from Rivendell. He wondered what Legolas' demeanor must be like when visiting the hidden vale. He lost himself in his thoughts while he walked. But as the images he conjured skimmed through his mind, the impossibility of his situation came home to him anew and he bit his lip as fresh pain washed over him.

"Can you not put him out of your mind, _mellonen_?"—my friend?

He started visibly at the sound of Elladan's voice, so deep had he been in his thoughts that he'd failed to note the twin's approach.

"I – you – you know—" he stuttered.

Elladan nodded. "Would you care to talk about it?' he offered kindly. "It might give you ease."

Sirgon stared at the Imladrin prince, unsure and a little suspicious. But he saw nothing but compassion and understanding in Elladan's blue-tinged grey eyes. He dropped his stare, shamed that he should have imputed anything base in the other's motives for seeking him out.

"I have not... not spoken of this to anyone," he admitted.

"Not even Heledir and Mithrael?"

"They would not understand. Heledir would be horrified and Mithrael... he knows of such things but he does not accept them either."

"You feel alone in this."

"Aye. And even more so now that Legolas has withdrawn from me." He drew in a shuddery breath. "I should not have told him. 'Twas foolish of me."

Elladan shook his head. "I wish I could tell you otherwise but, aye, it would have been better had you kept your peace. At least, until such time when these passions are accepted here once more."

Sirgon glanced at him curiously. "Think you they will be?"

"What is true to our nature cannot be suppressed forever. Sooner or late, your people will find their way back to the path, will they, nill they. But there is no telling when that will happen." He regarded the forlorn Elf gravely. "Still, you could have waited for a more opportune time. Prudence is of the essence when dealing with delicate matters."

"I realize that now," Sirgon admitted dolefully. "But after so many years, I'd forgotten that the ways of Mirkwood differed from the ways of Lórien. I came to think them akin since they are both realms of Wood-elves."

Elladan shook his head. "You forget that this kingdom was never under the influence of the Noldor. Indeed, Lord Thranduil and his father before him never trusted those who came back to Middle-earth from Aman. Even Celeborn, their own kinsman, could not persuade them otherwise. 'Tis only in this age that friendship has been forged between the Woodland Realm and Imladris."

"But I do not understand why Mirkwood's culture in this matter can have diverged so much from that of Imladris, Lórien or Mithlond."

"Did I not just point out that Mirkwood was never under a Noldorin lord? The High Kindred brought their culture back with them to Middle-earth in the First Age and, in realms where they held sway, it took hold and grew deep roots."

"But not in Greenwood."

Elladan shrugged. "Your people have had little to do with the Eldar for the most part. And the King's father, Oropher, hated the Noldor with a vengeance. You cannot expect him to have allowed what he called 'Golodh corruption' to taint his people in any way. 'Tis nothing short of a miracle that his son decided to establish links with Imladris."

"But the Lórien Elves are also of Silvan stock yet they follow the ancient path."

Elladan said: "Lothlorien's lord may be a Sinda but he is wed to a Noldorin lady whom he not only worships but takes much counsel from. The rulers of a realm can greatly influence its culture."

Sirgon considered the older twin's words then sighed with resignation. "Not that any of it matters. Even were he inclined towards his own kind, Legolas does not return my feelings. He is fated for someone else, I see that now."

"I sympathize with you, Sirgon," Elladan said. "I know how hard it is to love and not have it returned. But it is also hard to turn away one whom you know cares for you and inflict pain upon a loving heart. I have done so myself many a time and it never gets easier."

Sirgon considered the twin's words. Something told him that Elladan was not only referring to his many love affairs but particularly to experiences alike to his own

"Have you... have you ever bedded a male Elf, _hîr nîn_?"—my lord—he asked shyly.

Elladan shrugged. "Several. I first lay with another _ellon_ because 'twas supposed to be enjoyable."

"And did you?" Sirgon asked cautiously. "Enjoy it, I mean."

"Ai, immensely," Elladan grinned. "'Twas most pleasurable in fact. I suppose I was fortunate that my first lovers were greatly skilled; one of them even persuaded me to yield to him. That was a feat I must say for 'tis not my nature to submit to any," he chuckled in fond reminiscence. He looked at the other Elf and noted how scarlet he had become. "You know of what I speak. I take it you have some experience in this?"

"In Lórien," Sirgon admitted. "'Twas there that I realized where my preferences lay." Still flushed, he asked: "Are you and Lord Elrohir alike in such... matters?"

The Elf-lord glanced in the direction of his brother and smiled fondly. "My twin is as inclined toward pleasurable experiences as I am but he is even more proud. To my knowledge, he has never allowed any to take him. Mayhap if we loved any of our partners we would be more willing to play the sheath to the sword."

Sirgon blushed anew at the Elf-lord's frankness. Elladan smiled understandingly. "Do not mind me, I have always been brutally honest about such matters." He tilted his head curiously at his companion. "What you said earlier? Have you no liking for females at all?"

Sirgon shook his head. "None," he admitted. "I thought myself strange until I saw that 'twas regarded as natural in Lórien. Now that I look back, I realize 'twas the one thing that made me happy there. That I could be free in this. Yet I yearned for Greenwood, remembering my childhood."

"Even if you knew you would not be as free?"

"I did not think of that. I only wished to see my old friends again. To know the joy I'd shared with them as we grew up together."

"You could not foresee that you would turn your eyes to one of them in a much different manner," Elladan said gently.

Sirgon swallowed painfully. "He has changed since the days of our childhoods. I could not help myself."

Elladan sighed. "Legolas does not wish for your friendship to end. But he is uncomfortable now that he is aware of how you feel about him."

"I know," Sirgon said in a low sad voice. "If I could take back my words and actions I would. Better to have suffered in silence than to endure his rejection."

Elladan laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I have no ready solution to give you. But I am willing to listen if you need a sympathetic ear, as is Elrohir. He, too, would offer you comfort if you would but ask it of him."

Sirgon smiled wanly. "I have wronged both of you," he said. "I hope you will forgive me."

"'There is no need for apologies. 'Tis natural to feel jealous of those who you think hold your beloved's heart."

"'Twas not only that which I envied," Sirgon admitted. "I was also jealous of your closeness to him. 'Tis closer than any he has with the friends he grew up with. I did not realize how much you and he had shared while I was away."

Elladan was about to reply when he suddenly felt the hair on his nape rising. His eyes glittered and he spun on his heel. "_Yrch!_"—Orcs!—he hissed, alerting the others. In scant seconds, the Elves coalesced into a cohesive fighting unit, bows ready and swords drawn. Elrohir was by his twin's side in a flash. They vanished into the foliage to await their foes.

The minutes passed. The sound of heavy treads echoed through the dense growth. Suddenly a horde of foul creatures brandishing black blades crashed through the trees.

The Elves launched their ambush without further ado.

oOoOoOo

Word of the battle reached the Woodland Realm a day before the hunters returned. The orcs had been vanquished, their remains dragged into a clearing and burned to rid the forest of their stench. But there had been a price to the victory. While there were no casualties, many of the hunters had been wounded. And at least one, gravely so.

Elladan and Elrohir themselves helped bear Sirgon's litter back to the royal halls. The Elf had suffered a knife wound to his abdomen. It was deep and wide but it should not have been fatal given his elven stamina and strength. Except that the knife had been poisoned and Sirgon had not mentioned to either twin when they ministered to him that the wound burned with uncommon intensity. By the time they discovered the severity of his condition, the toxin had spread and caused much internal damage and Sirgon had fallen victim to systemic failure.

They'd returned with him as swiftly as possible to get him into the hands of Thranduil's healers. Though they were not sanguine about his chances of survival, they still held to the hope that the healers with their formidable skills and complete stock of medicaments might still pull him through.

Legolas met them as they approached the great cave. He blanched upon seeing the state of their cargo. Wordlessly, he led them to the healing rooms and helped transfer Sirgon to a bed in one of the chambers. Then they all waited outside for the healers' verdict.

It was grim. The poison, a most potent one, had already infiltrated nearly every organ in the immediate vicinity of the wound. There was nothing they could do. Sirgon was dying. He would not last through the night.

They looked in on him but he did not know it. The healers had given him a sleeping draught to ease the pain. They departed for their own chambers with heavy hearts.

oOoOoOo

Legolas slipped back into Sirgon's chamber near midnight, sending the healer on duty away. He had not been able to sleep. The thought of his dying friend had nagged at him insistently. In this moment, he forgot about Sirgon's forbidden love for him and only recalled that the Elf was his friend, one who had shared the years of his childhood with him.

He sat by him, fearfully wondering how near to death he was or if he was even still alive. His face was pallid, his lips closer to blue than the color of flesh and his breathing so indiscernible that, to a non-healer, it seemed he drew no breath at all. Legolas held the other's hand and stroked it gently. The fingers quivered against his palm. Heartened, he leaned over and sought for signs of consciousness in his friend.

"Sirgon?"

The lids fluttered open. For a moment, Sirgon dimly stared at him.

"Legolas..."

"How do you feel?" the prince softly asked.

"Do the... dead feel... anything?"

"Hush, do not say such things."

Sirgon swallowed painfully. "Will you... forgive... me?"

"For what? For loving me?" Legolas sighed. "'Tis I who should apologize. I forsook you when you needed me most."

Sirgon weakly shook his head. "Cannot... blame you." He tried to smile. "Am glad... you came. See you... one last... time."

Legolas felt his throat tighten. He could not refute Sirgon's words. This was indeed the last time they would see each other. By morning, the other Elf would be within the Halls of Awaiting.

He suddenly realized Sirgon was looking at him with profound emotion. There was no longer any reason to hide what he felt. Legolas winced as he espied grief mingled with love in the depths of his friend's fading eyes. How to ease his passing? Dampen his sorrow? Legolas did not want him to leave this life bearing the anguish of cruel rejection.

Gathering his courage, he bent and pressed a kiss to Sirgon's chilled lips. It was the most hesitant of caresses, more chaste than chaste in its lightness. But Sirgon, with a surge of strength, claimed it hungrily. Legolas was shocked but managed to control himself. He stifled the impulse to recoil, clamped down hard on the repugnance that rose within him. Now was not the time to let Sirgon feel rejected anew.

He allowed Sirgon to touch him, let him draw his faltering hands down his arms and torso. So focused was he on stilling his instinct to shrink from the caresses that he did not notice the two figures that paused at the entrance to the chamber.

The twins gazed in astonishment. An instant later, they understood what Legolas was trying to do. Elladan felt a mixture of sadness and relief. At least, Sirgon would not go into the dark without some comfort, he told himself. He glanced at Elrohir then started and stared at his brother.

Elrohir had the most peculiar expression on his face. Elladan did not know what to make of it. The younger twin had paled and there was an alarming glitter in his eyes. Anger? Dismay? Yes, but at what? He looked back at Legolas. The prince had moved to support Sirgon as the latter buried his face in the crook of his neck. Then Sirgon sought his lips once more and Legolas acquiesced. Elladan looked back at Elrohir. Was his brother angry with them? Elrohir suddenly drew in a sharp breath and shivered. Nay, Elladan realized, he is angry with and dismayed at himself. But why?

He was about to ask what was wrong when Elrohir glanced down the dimly lit corridor then took his arm and whispered: "Let us go. The king is approaching."

"What of it?"

The younger twin simply shook his head and insistently drew him into a dark recess along the hallway. After a few minutes, Thranduil reached the chamber door. The king made to enter only to stop at the threshold and stare at what was occurring inside. He was seen to stiffen but he held his peace. He remained where he was, continuing to watch his youngest son.

Elladan comprehended the wisdom of his brother's actions. Thranduil was patently uncomfortable with what Legolas had chosen to do to console Sirgon in his last moments. Not that he would stop his son; the king was no unfeeling tyrant. But he would not be pleased to know others had seen the same thing. It was best to spare him further discomfort.

After what seemed like eternity, Legolas came out of the chamber. He stopped when he saw his father standing there. A question passed silently between them and the prince nodded sadly. Thranduil held his arms out and Legolas slipped into them, letting his father's comforting warmth ease his sorrow. The king led him away.

The twins emerged from their concealment. A peek into Sirgon's chamber revealed a still, unbreathing figure upon the bed. With regretful sighs, the brethren departed as well.

_To be continued_…


	27. Forbidden Fruit 6

_**Forbidden Fruit**  
by Eressë_

Chapter VI  
The Elvenking approached his youngest son as he stood by Sirgon's grave, the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, on either side of him. The Woodland Realm's graveyard lay to the north, a fair distance away from the royal halls. It was a quiet, relatively open space where the trees were not so dense. This morning, sunlight managed to penetrate the leafy canopy overhead, dappling the grassy mounds below with golden light.

As soon as the twins espied him, they moved a slight distance away, intuitively knowing that Thranduil desired a moment alone with Legolas.

The king stared down somberly at the freshly filled grave. After a while, he looked at his son, his eyes somewhat anxious. Legolas returned his gaze and waited patiently for what he might have to say.

"'Tis not the best time to bring this up," Thranduil said at last. "But my heart is uneasy and I cannot put this off."

"What is it, _Ada_?"—Papa?

"I saw you... saw what you did in Sirgon's last moments. I cannot deny that it made me uncomfortable. Legolas, did you...?" The king was forced to take a calming breath. "Why, my son? I knew of Sirgon's feelings for you but I did not think that you..."

"_Ada_." Legolas placed a reassuring hand on his father's arm. "I did it to ease his passing. I hurt him deeply not least because I thought his passion for me abhorrent. Had I known the truth of our nature, I would have been kinder and he might not have suffered as much as he did."

"You have learned about the ancient path."

"The _gwenyn_"—twins—"apprised me of it."

"And...?"

"You are worried that I am tempted to follow it because of what I did with Sirgon. But I assure you 'tis not the case." Legolas glanced at the twins, recalling their discussion. "Elladan mentioned that I could probably be made to tread it only if I met an _ellon_"—male Elf—"chosen by fate itself. Sirgon was not that _ellon_. I felt only pity and the pull of our old friendship, no more."

Thranduil heaved a sigh of obvious relief. "That is reassuring. I confess, though I know of the old ways, I am no longer at ease with them. Not after all these millennia."

"Then we are in accord, _Ada_. I am not at ease with them either."

The Elvenking finally relaxed. With a nod at the brethren and a last look at the grave, he strode away. The twins silently came back to Legolas' side. Elladan considered the prince thoughtfully.

"Forgive us but we could not help overhearing your conversation," he said. "You withheld something from your father, Legolas. What is it that still troubles you?"

Legolas hesitated then said: "Nay, I am not troubled but confused. What you told me about our nature... Why is it then that I could not respond to Sirgon's touch? If I carry the duality within me, why was I uncomfortable with his caresses? I had to stop myself from recoiling even unto his dying breath."

Elladan shook his head. "The duality of elven nature is a capability, not a compulsion," he explained. "Some Elves feel only the pull of their own kind, others only that of the opposite gender. And still more know both passions and must eventually choose one or the other if they wish to espouse themselves. Our own Daurin must one day decide whom he will bind to – Enedrion or Almáriel. And Elrohir and I will have to make that choice as well having known the loving of male and female-kind. Is that not so, brother?"

Elrohir seemed to shake himself out of some deep contemplation for he blinked then looked at Elladan somewhat blankly.

"I am sorry. What did you say?"

Elladan peered at him curiously. "I was telling Legolas that our duality does not force us to accept both sides of our natures," he said.

"Aye, that is true," Elrohir agreed. "'Tis still our conscious will that dictates our choices though our hearts often guide us as well."

Legolas frowned then looked at Elladan. "But you said were I to meet the 'right' _ellon_, I would not be able to resist his pull," he reminded the older twin.

"And that scares you," Elladan remarked. "Legolas, you have been drawn to certain _ellyth_"—Elf-maids—"for no discernable reason and found it next to impossible not to desire them. Yet that doesn't mean you bedded them all nor did you love any one of them. Physical desire is simply that. You may act on it or not and even when you do, it does not automatically lead to love itself. Admittedly, it can be agony to deny what one's body demands but it can be done. You still have a choice."

Legolas pondered Elladan's words then nodded. "I confess, your words alarmed me more than I cared to admit. I cannot... The thought of – of coupling with another male..." He shivered. "'Tis a strange and frightening notion to me. I wish it were not so. It shames me that I fear what is native to our kindred. It shames me that I could not help Sirgon in his need."

"Do not be shamed by this, Calenlass," Elrohir quietly said. "Your people abandoned the ancient path long ago. You knew nothing of it, much less experienced what it entails. No one can simply forget a lifetime's worth of traditions and beliefs. Not even you, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas had to smile. Elrohir had the most uncommon gift of oft knowing what to say to alleviate his fears or uncertainties.

"Thank you, _meldiren_"—my friend—he said. He glanced down at Sirgon's grave once more, his heart still heavy with grief but no longer so burdened by guilt.

"May you find your peace, Sirgon," he softly intoned.

Flanked by Elladan and Elrohir, he turned away and walked back to his father's halls.

The End

**Part 8:**Prelude: Into Temptation – The thin line between friendship and desire isn't all that easy to cross. Rating: M


	28. Prelude: Into Temptation

**Summary:** The thin line between friendship and desire isn't all that easy to cross.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** You might call this an expanded prologue to the next story.

_**Prelude: Into Temptation**_  
_by Eressë_

Imladris, _Viressë_ T.A. 1602  
The storm struck with scant warning. Vociferous thunder and awesome bolts of lightning alternated in malevolent harmony, heralding its imminent approach. Black clouds appeared with startling speed and released their burden of rain not by the bucket but by the barrel. And all the while, the wind howled with the volume of an invading army of Wargs.

Legolas sucked his breath in sharply at the cacophony outside. He was in his bedchamber, packing the last of his belongings. The morrow would find him on his way home after a whole winter's stay in Rivendell. He jumped a little as a thunderclap seemingly boomed just outside his window.

Legolas was not ordinarily afraid of storms but this one had unleashed its force with a ferocity the prince had never experienced before. After all, Mirkwood's dense canopy sheltered the Woodland Realm and the delved halls of Thranduil's palace protected its royal family from the full brunt of any storm no matter how strong.

He'd thought the vale would not be overly affected, expecting the hills around it to blunt the force of any maelstrom. But this one had descended with full strength on the narrow valley itself and now the prince found himself struggling with a fear so primal it shook him to his very core.

Sweet Eru, he was a grown Elf! Surely a simple storm was nothing to get so anxious about. He staunchly pushed down his apprehensions and continued with his task. A veritable lightning show followed by a thunderous crash dashed his resolve to bits, making him jump in fright. Legolas could actually see the bolts right outside his window as they snaked their way down from the unrelentingly dark skies. He almost cried out when he heard an explosion outside. He stared out his window in shock.

In the distance the archer espied a burning tree. It had obviously been struck by lightning. The torrential rains were already dousing the flames leaving naught but a smoking ruin of a tree but the sight unnerved Legolas nonetheless. He had seen lightning-struck trees in Mirkwood, their branches scorched and blackened and trunks singed and blistered. But he had never actually witnessed one burning away in the aftermath of a strike. He shivered at the thought of what would happen if anyone were caught out in the open in this treacherous weather.

Shaking slightly, he tried his best to ignore the storm and its ferocious offspring. But then his chamber lit up with eerie brilliance then seemed to shake with a terrible drum roll of thunder. Legolas gave up trying to be brave and dashed out of his room. He headed straight for the bedchamber closest to his.

Elrohir looked up in surprise to see Legolas at his door looking very unlike his usually unflappable self. The younger twin was reading a thick tome when he noticed the prince's presence. He set the book aside and turned in bed to take stock of his friend.

"Legolas, what is wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost," he said.

"Nay, not a ghost," Legolas mumbled. "'Tis – 'tis just that – do you think this storm will last through the night?'

Elrohir shrugged. "Most likely. Why do you ask?"

A flash of lightning lit up the chamber as if it were day and was immediately followed by a deafening crash of thunder that made the glazed panes of Elrohir's windows rattle. Legolas could not help flinching visibly, a fact Elrohir did not fail to notice. He stared at his friend's suddenly pale countenance.

"You're afraid of the storm?" he blurted out incredulously.

Legolas glared at him indignantly but, unfortunately, the effect was lost when he started and winced on the heels of another monstrous thunderclap. Torn between amusement and sympathy, Elrohir decided on the latter sentiment and shifted to one side of his large bed.

"Never mind, come here," he grinned, lifting one side of his blanket.

His face flaming with embarrassment, Legolas accepted the twin's invitation nonetheless. Reminding Elrohir of a scared Elfling, the archer hurried over to the bed and scooted under the proffered cover.

Elrohir looked down at him wonderingly. The prince lay huddled, facing him, his eyes closing tightly every time thunder or lightning struck. "'Tis only a storm, Legolas," he said comfortingly. "Surely you have experienced storms in Mirkwood."

Legolas sighed woefully. "Aye, but not like this. My father's halls are not as exposed as your home and the forest shelters us to a great extent." He shuddered as the wind's howling increased to an intolerable din. He bit his lip and looked up at Elrohir. "You must think me such a coward," he said shamefacedly.

Elrohir chuckled understandingly. "Nay, we all have our share of fears. As you say, we are more exposed to the elements and you are not used to it. Be thankful that this is a vale and not the open plains. That would be even worse."

Legolas nodded and tried to calm himself. But another explosive thunderclap foiled his attempt. Elrohir literally felt the mattress bounce as the archer almost jumped in bed. The twin shook his head, swallowed his laughter with some difficulty, and slid down beside the shaking prince.

"'Tis all right, Calenlass," he cooed, stroking his friend's arm.

Legolas looked at him as if he were a safe harbor in which he could anchor his frail boat. "Elrohir?" he quavered, his face even redder than the twin thought possible. "I know I will never live this down but – but will you hold me?"

A dark eyebrow lifted in surprise followed by a chuckle. "Very well, _gwador neth_. If it will comfort you," he grinned.

He obligingly drew Legolas close, holding him against his chest as he would a child. As the rains continued to lash raucously at the sturdy walls of the Last Homely House and the elements ceaselessly made their presence violently known, the Mirkwood Elf clung even more tenaciously to his friend. Suppressing his snickers, Elrohir ran his hand idly through the prince's fair hair and stroked his back and shoulders.

He did not know precisely when his feelings about the situation changed. Between one moment and the next he suddenly became all too aware of Legolas' body pressed against his. It did not help that he was clad in naught but thin night trousers as was his habit. Elrohir felt his breath shorten and his heart begin to race. A slow heat kindled within him.

_No, this cannot happen! Not now!_ He looked down at the prince, wondering if he had noticed his reaction, hoping he had not and worrying that he had. But the golden-maned Elf was too absorbed in quelling his own emotions to take notice of his friend's. Elrohir blew his breath out in relief. Now, if only Legolas did not move any closer.

That hope was foiled when a veritable display of electrical energy gone mad erupted outside succeeded by a horrendous clap of thunder, louder than all its predecessors. Gasping in shock, Legolas ducked his head into the crook of Elrohir's neck and flung his arm around the Rivendell Elf. Elrohir winced at their perilous proximity.

The prince had practically draped himself over the younger twin in his efforts to be as close as possible to the reassuring presence of his friend. Now they were virtually chest-to-chest, their lean hips and groins pressed together, their long legs entangled beneath the blanket. Cursing to himself, Elrohir strove desperately to get his wayward body under control.

To his horror, he felt the heat concentrate in one particular spot, pooling insidiously to animate the one particular part of his body that he could not, _should not_, allow to spring to life. Frantically, he tried to move away from Legolas before the other felt the difference because, by Elbereth, if things went any further, only a brainless Orc would not!

Legolas lifted his head and looked at him, frowning. "Why are you moving away?" he asked fretfully. "Am I bothering you?"

Elrohir stared at him for a second. "Nay, of course, not," he managed to answer. "Only – only maybe I should – um – ask Elladan to join us."

Legolas looked at him in surprise. "Elladan?"

"Well, yes. We could – er – place you between us," Elrohir replied, rapidly improvising along the way. "You would feel more secure that way, wouldn't you?" Legolas hesitated then nodded. "Good! Stay here. I will not be long."

Tucking Legolas in securely, he hurriedly threw on a robe then raced to his brother's bedchamber. It was with great relief that he found his twin awake, writing a letter at his desk. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he strode up to Elladan, snatched the quill from his fingers and hissed: "You have to come and stay with me tonight! Legolas is afraid of the storm and got into bed with me. I was comforting him but something has changed and now I need you to join us before I do something stupid!"

Elladan gaped at him in bewilderment. Not only had his brother not made any sense, he had managed to do so without stopping for breath. "Slow down, _gwanneth_!"—younger twin—he exclaimed. "What has changed and what stupid thing might you do and what has Legolas got to do with anything you just said?"

Elrohir paused to take a deep breath. "I let him get into bed with me because the storm frightened him. I beg you do not laugh about it now!" He drew in another breath. "He asked me to hold him which I did but he got even closer and I felt something happen to me and now I just know I will do something terrible if you do not join us!"

Feeling a little breathless himself after trying to keep up with his twin's last strung-together sentence, Elladan placed a firm and calming hand on his brother's arm. "What terrible thing will you do if I do not go with you?" he asked.

Elrohir snapped out of his near-hysterical state. Dark eyes wide with anxiety and shoulders taut with tension, he let his breath out and whispered: "I might try to seduce him."

Elladan stared at him in shock. "Ai, Elrohir, you've really done it this time!" he gasped.

The younger twin glowered at him. "Is that all you can say!" he bellowed. "Look, we are taking too long as it is. Legolas is probably quaking under my blanket this very minute wondering why I have not returned. _You must come now!_"

He yanked his brother out of the chair and hauled him along to his own room. Elladan protested all the way but a sharp glare silenced him when they came to Elrohir's door.

They entered and found Legolas curled up under the covers, flinching with every thunderclap. The prince looked vastly relieved when Elrohir slid back into bed beside him. The twin stared impatiently at his brother who stood uncertainly by the bed.

"What are you waiting for? A formal invitation? Get in!" he ordered Elladan.

Just as a befuddled Elladan began to slide under the blanket, an ear-splitting thunderclap rattled the windowpanes. Legolas half-yelped and dove into Elrohir's arms again. Elrohir gasped as his groin responded almost at once to the renewed contact between their bodies. The younger twin frantically looked at his brother with an expression that all too plainly pleaded for _Help!_

Elladan stared back at him in sudden comprehension. He quickly bent over the trembling prince and soothingly crooned, "Legolas, _gwador_, you do not have to cling to Elrohir. We'll keep you in the middle, see?" He coaxed the prince into relinquishing his tight hold on the younger twin. "Elrohir will hold you if that is what you want, all right? Now, lie back and relax. That's it."

Face flushed with even greater embarrassment, Legolas acquiesced to the older twin's suggestions and settled back against the pillows. Inwardly sighing with relief, Elrohir rolled onto his side and placed an arm loosely over him.

Sandwiched between the warm bodies of the brothers, comforted by Elladan's murmured words of encouragement and Elrohir's protective arm around him, Legolas finally managed not to take too much notice of the storm outside. After a while, he slipped into relatively peaceful slumber though he still clutched at Elrohir's arm even in his sleep.

The twins looked at each other. Elrohir heaved a troubled sigh while Elladan reached across and clapped a consoling hand on his shoulder. With a final glance at the golden prince between them, they settled down and finally fell asleep themselves.

The following morning dawned bright and cheery, an astonishing reversal of the night's tormented paroxysms.

When Elrohir failed to show up for the morning meal, Elladan went in search of him. He found him in the Hall of Fire, huddled in an armchair staring morosely at the newly stoked flames in the great hearth.

"Are you all right?" Elladan asked as he came up to his brother.

Elrohir shrugged listlessly. "I do not know. I do not think so."

Elladan frowned then squeezed himself into the chair beside his twin. Elrohir yelped protestingly. "You are not _that_ thin, _gwaniaur!_"—older twin!—he complained. "Get out, I cannot breath."

Elladan only grinned and stuffed himself even further into the chair. "So, what exactly happened to you last night?" he queried.

Elrohir stopped wriggling and went still. He then groaned and sat back in frustration. "I wanted to bed him, Elladan," he said almost angrily. "Call it madness but I actually desired our friend!" He snorted with disgust at himself. "What is wrong with me? How could I even have thought of it?"

Elladan pursed his lips and studied his twin's pained expression. "Was it simply a – physical response to his extreme nearness?" he asked at length. "Because if it was, all you need do now is tumble some willing maid. Or mayhap a strapping Elf?"

Elrohir shook his head. "I have never felt like this with any _ellon_ before," he said. "Lustful enough to bed them, aye, but not this – this _need_." He glanced at Elladan, his eyes dark with worry. "I do not think 'tis mere desire for just any body, _muindor_. I think 'tis Legolas himself."

The older twin pursed his lips and drew in a deep breath. "I have long suspected this," he bit out. "Indeed, I feared it. But you always denied it, _gwanneth_, you claimed 'twas not so!"

"I did not know what I felt, Elladan!" the Elf-knight cried. "I swear by all that's holy, I did not!"

Elladan insisted: "You felt something before last night. I know it. I would see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice though I did not dare think on it."

Elrohir shivered then nodded. "I thought 'twas just a passing fancy of mine. You know I have always thought him beautiful even by the measure of our people but it was just that. What's a little admiration between friends after all?" He grimaced. "I thought I could control it but it seems that isn't the case. I can no longer deny it."

"But what changed? This epiphany could not have happened in an instant. What brought it about?"

The younger twin hesitated then looked at his brother with haunted eyes. "That night we saw them? Remember?"

They had always been so close that they oft knew each other's thoughts even before they were uttered. Elrohir's cryptic words were enough fodder to help bring Elladan's swirling speculations to an abrupt conclusion. His eyes widened. "O Valar, Elrohir. You realized how you felt about him because of _that_?"

Elrohir sighed despondently. "I tried so hard not to dwell on it. Indeed, I told myself 'twas but a reaction to what we saw. But now… Ai, Elladan, what should I do?"

The older twin blew his breath out. He reached over and put an arm around his brother, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "Mayhap... mayhap you should tell Legolas about this."

Elrohir snorted at the suggestion. "That is the worst idea you have ever come up with yet." He shook his head vehemently. "He must never know. I will not mar our friendship for so small a reason as my base needs."

"Base needs, _tôr neth_?"—younger brother? "You could never feel anything base for those you love."

"You give me far more credit than I deserve."

"Nay, I speak the truth."

"Nevertheless, we will not mention this to him. Please, keep this a secret?"

Elladan frowned then reluctantly nodded. "'Tis against my better judgment but for now I will hold my tongue," he agreed. "But please take care, Elrohir. I do not want you to get hurt."

Elrohir was about to reply when the doors to the hall opened and a slender figure entered hesitantly.

"Elladan? Elrohir?"

Elladan gestured to the Mirkwood prince. "Over here, Legolas."

The archer approached them looking somewhat flustered. "I want to thank you for what you did for me last night," he said. "You must think me so foolish to be frightened of a mere storm."

"We would never think thusly of you, _ernil daur_"—forest prince— Elrohir said. "As we agreed last night, you were unused to it. And as for our service, think nothing of it."

Legolas still looked uneasy. "You won't tell my brothers about it, will you?' he asked anxiously.

The twins grinned at him. "Or any other soul," Elladan assured him. "Our lips are sealed, _gwador neth_."—young sworn brother.

The prince relaxed and smiled. "I am in your debt then," he said. He gestured to the doors. "I have already taken leave of your father. My people await me outside. Will you not see me off?"

"Of course, we will see you – aah!" Elrohir had attempted to rise only to find himself unable to budge from beside his twin. Elladan had wedged them into the chair as tightly as a cork in a yet unopened bottle of wine. "Look at what you've done!" the younger twin growled. "Legolas, give me your hand!"

Chuckling, the prince grasped Elrohir's hand and pulled as hard as he could. After a few seconds straining, the younger twin came free with an almost audible pop. His momentum brought him into near-collision with Legolas.

With a sudden jerk, Elrohir managed to avoid coming into full contact with his friend. He glared back at his brother for putting him into such a precarious situation once more. But Elladan was too busy choking on his own laughter to really care at the moment.

After a while, the twins walked with their friend to the debris-strewn, puddle-ridden courtyard. The prince's retainers were already mounted and waiting. Legolas turned to the brothers and smiled gratefully.

"I still think 'twas good of you to take care of me last night," he said. "_Hannon le, mellynen_."—Thank you, my friends.

"You're very welcome," Elladan grinned. "Until we meet again, Legolas."

He hugged the fair-haired archer. Legolas then turned to Elrohir. Swallowing his unease, the younger twin returned the prince's embrace.

"Safe journey, _Calenlass nîn,_" he murmured.

The brethren watched Legolas mount and lead the contingent away. As the Mirkwood party passed under the arch leading into the valley outside, he turned and waved to them. They waved back. The youngest prince of the Woodland Realm departed Rivendell, sheltered by the twins' complicity, none the wiser about the change of heart that could one day alter his life in a way beyond anything he'd ever imagined.

Glossary:  
Viressë - Quenya for April  
ellon – male Elf  
muindor – brother  
Calenlass nîn" – my Greenleaf

**Part 9:** Melethron: The Ancient Path. No price is too high to pay if a priceless friendship is at stake. If it's worth having, it's worth saving. Rating: M for sexual content.


	29. Melethron: The Ancient Path 1 Offense

**Warning:** This is slash fiction and while I adhered as closely as possible to the canon timeline and storylines obviously the same cannot be said for some of the relationships recounted herein. Therefore please do not proceed any further if the subject matter or this take on Prof. Tolkien's work offends or disturbs you.

**Rating:** M for sexual content.

**Summary:** No price is too high to pay if a priceless friendship is at stake. If it's worth having, it's worth saving.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Notes:** The whole series is divided into three parts: The first half of the Third Age, the latter half, and the early centuries of the Fourth Age. This tale is the second to the last story of the first part.

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_ by Eressë_

Chapter I: Offense  
Mirkwood, _laer_ T.A. 1628  
The company of Elven rangers halted in a small clearing of Mirkwood. It was nearing sunset in the world outside but under the eaves of the great forest, it would soon be as dark as night. Only in such spots as these where the trees did not form an almost impenetrable canopy above did the sun make its presence known. The Elves set about making camp.

Oreth, the captain of the company, approached a fair-haired Elf who was engaged in fetching wood for the campfires. The _Edhel_ appeared younger and also slighter of build than most of his comrades. But no one could have mistaken him for anything but a warrior for he moved with a cat-like grace that hinted at battle-honed reflexes. And though lithe and slender, there was no lack of muscle or strength in his form and limbs.

"Legolas," Oreth said. "May I have a word with you in private?"

The youngest son of Thranduil nodded and put down his burden. There was no resentment at being addressed thus. Indeed, none of the three Elf-lords in the company would have taken exception. For though Legolas and his friends, the brethren Elladan and Elrohir, were of high and ancient lineage, they were also warriors with a deeply ingrained sense of duty. And that included submitting to the authority of those placed above them in rank or seniority.

The twins had arrived in Mirkwood the week before for a fortnight's visit; responsibilities in Rivendell allowed them no more than the briefest of stays. It had been many years since they had set foot in the Woodland Realm and much had changed since. For one, the brethren had matured considerably. Known for their high spirits and sometimes intemperate pursuit of adventure and pleasure, the brothers had surprised everyone with their more restrained behavior.

It was a change that disappointed a few but pleased many more, King Thranduil most of all. He had often despaired that they would influence his youngest son into behaving as they did and, considering Legolas' own youthful ingenuity when it came to getting into trouble, his anxiety had been understandable.

The other change was from without. Orcs had always infested the Misty Mountains but of late they had become more numerous and quite bold and had taken to harassing the borders of Mirkwood. And the spiders that lurked in the deeps of the dark woods were also increasing and daring to spin their webs closer to the Woodland Realm than was comfortable for its people.

The latter change was the primary reason for the scouting party that wove its way through Northern Mirkwood. Thranduil intended to keep his people safe even if it meant hunting down each and every spider that had nested dangerously close to his kingdom or scouring the borders to ensure they would not be despoiled by marauding orcs. The Woodland Realm had flourished for many an age and its king was not about to permit it to diminish from lack of vigilance or foresight.

As soon as the twins learned that Legolas would be leaving on this sortie, they insisted on joining the scouting party as well. Thranduil had known better than to forbid them to go. Change for the better they may have done but the King was taking no chances. While their days of indefatigable and unfettered trouble making were long behind them, the twins still indulged themselves in a bit of mayhem mongering now and then. Their eyes betrayed that mischief yet lurked within and was just awaiting an excuse to burst out and wreak havoc as of old. Better to let them unleash their restless energies on orcs and spiders than on the hapless inhabitants of his halls!

Elrohir watched Legolas follow the captain away from the clearing. A frown etched his fair face. He was uneasy and felt a need to do something about that uneasiness. As his twin crouched down beside him, he came to a decision.

"Elladan, finish this for me," he murmured, indicating the small fire he was building.

Elladan asked, "Why, where are you going?"

"After Legolas," came the terse reply.

"Whatever for?"

"I am not sure. Call it intuition, if you wish." With that, he rose and hurried after the Elven prince and his captain.

He tracked them to a nearby glen where the lowering sun still managed to cast some of it red-gold beams. Legolas was standing to one side, still as a young beech tree, arms folded, face expressionless. In the slowly fading light he looked almost delicate, his hair seemingly spun from silver and gold, his sun-dappled skin aglow with soft color.

On the other hand, Oreth seemed restless for he did not face the prince but paced about a while. Elrohir settled into the thick brush. From his place of concealment he could see but not be seen and he could hear whatever needed to be heard.

"What did you wish to speak to me about?" Legolas asked at length.

Oreth glanced up at him. There was a speculative gleam in his dark eyes. He came close to the younger Elf.

"We have been away for nigh on five days and I am getting weary of it," he began. Legolas simply raised one dark golden eyebrow. Five days of scouring the dark wood was not very long by any standard. The captain noted his surprise and smiled. "Nay, 'tis not the length of time of this mission that troubles me but the length of time spent away from any chances of – release," he said. The hesitation before the last word underscored its significance "Do you understand what I mean?"

Legolas remained expressionless. "I think I do," he quietly replied.

"Do you?" murmured the older Elf. "Then perhaps you already know why I brought you here." When the prince did not respond, his smiled widened. "This is the first time you have served under me, Legolas, and I admit I have been distracted by your presence since we set out. You are more attractive than rumor would have it. So much more comely than either of your brothers."

His words carried easily to where Elrohir lay. The Rivendell Elf felt his stomach turn. What was Oreth thinking?

The captain stepped closer to the prince. "You do not speak."

"What am I supposed to say?" Legolas said.

Oreth grinned. "That perhaps you feel as I do? That we can spend this time together in mutual, shall we call it, easing of certain desires?" He raised a hand to stroke one of the tiny braids behind the prince's ear.

Legolas suddenly jerked his head away. "I do not think so," he replied.

Oreth stared at him in surprise. His eyes narrowed. "You watch me closely enough, golden one," he murmured. "I do not think you mean what you say."

"I always watch my captains," Legolas answered evenly. "'Tis my duty to know what they may need before they must ask for it."

"Need," Oreth repeated. "Yes, I do have a need. And if you indeed knew your duty you would meet it."

Legolas' blue eyes darkened ominously. "That I will not," he said. He turned away.

"Legolas, I did not give you leave to go!" Oreth snapped. The prince halted but did not turn around.

Elrohir tensed as Oreth curled his arms around the archer's shoulders from behind. Legolas remained immobile but his face had gone pale with – what? Elrohir wondered why his friend did nothing.

Oreth raised one hand and brushed the long golden tresses aside baring one side of Legolas' neck. "You should know better than to defy your captain," he murmured. Legolas visibly shuddered when the older Elf pressed his lips to his neck.

He twisted out of the captain's arms. "I think 'tis time we returned to the others, Oreth." His tone was harder, threatening. But the captain made no move to go back. Legolas once more turned away to leave.

Oreth grabbed him by an arm, spun him around roughly. "I think not," he grated. Elrohir sucked in his breath, shocked at the Elf's boldness. His hand moved to the dagger at his belt.

Oreth had grasped the younger Elf's wrists. His face was but a mere inch from the prince's. He said persuasively, "Why resist? I could teach you things you have never known. You might find that you like the experience." When Legolas did not protest by word or deed, he smirked. Confident he had intimidated his prey, he released one of the prince's hands and began to unfasten the fair _Edhel's_ tunic.

Just as Elrohir rose to a crouch to rush the pair, Legolas exploded into action. Elrohir did not know what the prince did; he only saw the result. One moment the younger Elf was motionless, seemingly helpless as Oreth undid his tunic. In the next, he had grabbed Oreth's wrist with his free hand and, in a startling flurry of motion, had flipped the captain over on to the ground.

Oreth landed on his stomach with a jolt. Before he could recover his breath, Legolas had straddled his back and twisted his arms behind him. The prince spoke in a voice that jarred the captain into apprehension. "Did you think I would allow you to force me into servicing your base needs?" he said. "I am no mere warrior whom you can coerce or compel by abusing the authority given you."

He leaned down and hissed, "I will forget this incident for you are a good captain despite this weakness of yours. But I warn you not to try my patience again or take from others what they do not wish to give. All your past service and valor will avail you not if I should hear of another such incident. I will be watching you closely, Oreth, remember that!"

He let go of the older Elf and rose to his feet. Calmly, he refastened his tunic while waiting for the other Elf to rise. Oreth, his face flushed with humiliation got to his feet. Legolas coolly leveled his gaze at him. "As I earlier said, 'tis time we returned."

Oreth glared at him but knew there was little he could do in retaliation. He dusted himself off and strode away. Legolas coldly watched him go. As the prince moved to follow, he heard a slight rustle. He spun around warily, yanking a white-hilted _sigil_ from its sheath.

"Hold, Legolas, 'tis only me!"

Legolas stared in surprise as Elrohir emerged from the bushes. "What are you doing here?" he asked sheathing his knife once more.

Elrohir flushed slightly. "I followed you."

"Why?"

The raven-haired Elf shrugged. "I felt there was something wrong," he said. "Oreth has been watching you closely all this week."

"As I was watching him," Legolas pointed out.

"Nay, his look was different," Elrohir responded. "I knew he wanted something else from you. There have been unsavory rumors about him after all." He glanced at the fair-haired archer. "I wasn't sure what he intended to do when he asked you to go with him. But I didn't want to wait for my suspicions to be confirmed."

Legolas lips formed into a small smile. "_Gwador_, I can take care of myself," he reminded his friend.

"So you proved. How did you do that? I have never seen anything so fast. You must teach me that particular move, Legolas."

The prince laughed softly. "When we get back to my father's halls," he promised.

They started back toward camp. "What about Oreth?" Elrohir asked curiously. "Are you really going to let him go unpunished after what he tried to do to you?"

Legolas sighed. "Oreth is a good captain," he explained. "We cannot afford to put aside someone like him, not in these times. Mirkwood is too perilous now for us to entrust our warriors to inexperienced or incapable leaders, no matter how noble or loyal they may be. But I told him I would be watching him and I meant what I said. That should ensure that no more of his men will have to endure his twisted desires." He glanced at Elrohir. "'Tis the reason I asked to join this mission."

Elrohir gaped at him in amazement. "Do you mean you used yourself as bait to trap him?" he exclaimed.

"Someone had to. I knew he would be attracted to me."

"You were so certain? You think highly of your face and form!"

"Nay, I only acted upon what I had heard of his tastes. I am not a novice at this, Elrohir!"

"I am sorry, I did not mean to imply that. But how did you ensure that he would indeed take the bait?"

"Oh, a glance here, a brush of the hand there, perhaps a smile once in a while."

"You encouraged him?" Elrohir stared at his friend.

Legolas shrugged. "If he was encouraged 'twas because he wished to deduce more from my actions than there was in truth."

To this Elrohir could only shake his head in amazement. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Glossary:  
melethron - male lover  
laer - Sindarin for summer  
Edhel - Elf  
gwador - sworn brother

_To be continued_…


	30. Melethron: The Ancient Path 2 Undeclared

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Undeclared  
"What are you brooding over, _muindor_?"—brother—Elladan asked. For the better part of dinner, Elrohir had spent his time staring into the flames of one of the campfires, deep in thought.

It was pitch dark and somewhat stuffy. To the Mirkwood Elves, it was as expected. But for the twins, born and bred in the openness of Rivendell, it was unnerving and repressive. They were used to seeing the stars, to walking in open spaces. This forest afforded them neither luxury. No matter how many times they had helped patrol Mirkwood they had never really gotten used to its closeness. But they had come along for friendship's sake. Where Legolas was there they intended to be.

Elrohir glanced at his twin as the latter sat down cross-legged beside him. He knew it would be futile to try hiding anything from his brother. What Elladan could not get through persistent questioning he would divine from close study of his twin.

They were very alike and, at first glance or from a short distance, difficult to tell apart. For the sake of quick identification, something necessary out on the field, they always arranged their raven locks differently to help others distinguish them easily from each other. To this end, Elladan had adopted the slender braids favored by the Mirkwood Elves to keep his hair from his face, whereas Elrohir had bound his tresses into a single thick plait in the manner of Men.

"I was thinking about what happened between Legolas and Oreth," he murmured.

"But nothing happened," Elladan said. "Truth be told, I was surprised when you set off after them. Legolas has always been able to take care of himself."

"I know. It's just that…" Elrohir sighed. "I could not help myself. When I guessed what Oreth's intentions might be I – I could not help myself," he said once more.

Elladan studied his twin. "'Tis that problem again, isn't it," he murmured. Elrohir's only response was to color up slightly. "I thought you had managed to control it."

Elrohir shook his head. "'Tis even worse," he replied.

Elladan let out his breath. "You should tell Legolas," he softly suggested.

His brother stared at him. "Are you mad?" he said. "He would hate me!"

"You do not know that."

"And you did not see him with Oreth! He looked quite capable of flaying him alive."

"Oreth is not his friend. You are. You are dearer to him than his own brothers."

"All the more reason not to chance ruining whatever closeness we share," Elrohir retorted.

Elladan had no answer for that. "If only you had met someone else—"

Elrohir shook his head. "I do not think that would have averted what has happened to me, Elladan. What I have ever felt for anyone else is altogether different from what I now feel for—"

"What are you two plotting?"

Both brothers started as Legolas came up from behind and sat down facing them.

"Since when did you take to creeping up on your friends?" Elladan said a little crossly, put out at having been caught off guard by the prince.

"I did not creep up, Elladan. You were so engrossed in your discussion, a horde of Orcs could have come upon you and you would not have noticed!" At the rueful grins of the brothers, Legolas chuckled. "So what were you talking about? You're not dreaming up one of your schemes again, are you?"

"Schemes? We do not indulge in such frivolous games out here in the wild, Legolas Thranduilion"—son of Thranduil!—Elladan announced virtuously.

Legolas snorted skeptically. He looked at Elrohir who remained half hidden at his twin's side. Oddly, it seemed as if he preferred to remain half hidden. "You are so quiet, Elrohir," he commented.

Elrohir glanced at him. "I have nothing to say," he replied with a shrug.

Legolas stared at him. "What? A Peredhel with nothing to say? I did not think it possible!"

Elladan took pity on his brother and sought to divert Legolas' attention to another subject. "He is only feeling the effects of prolonged chastity," he quipped.

He deemed it a safe observation for the twins' unconventional (by elven standards) predilection for casual bed-play was known to all. Nothing dampened their need to experiment and explore. Fortunately for them, their sexual adventurism was often attributed to the _Edain_ side of their heritage and thus shielded them for the most part from more than mild disapproval.

Legolas grinned. "'Tis a matter of astonishment to me how greedy you two are for more than what is good for either of you. A few love affairs I can understand but you seem to aim for quantity!"

"At least, we shall have sown all our wild seed when we finally settle down into wedded life," Elladan shot back.

"Just take care that that is all you sow lest your future wives find themselves the only ones unable to provide you with heirs."

"Legolas, we have never and are not about to father children out of wedlock," Elladan said virtuously. "That is not the way of the Eldar!"

"And your promiscuity is?"

"Ha! The pot dares call the kettle black! You are no innocent, _mellonen_ yet you do not have the excuse of Half-elven forefathers to defend yourself!"

"I am no innocent, true, but neither do I chase after every maiden in sight as you do. I am much more restrained, selective and discreet. You would be hard-pressed to name any maiden I have dallied with."

Before his brother could come up with an appropriate response, Elrohir suddenly asked, "What did you feel about Oreth's behavior toward you, Calenlass?"

The other two stared at him in surprise. Elladan warily glanced at his twin, one eyebrow going up in inquiry. Elrohir only shook his head slightly.

"I was appalled by his actions," Legolas swiftly answered.

"You find his interest in his own kind offensive?" Elrohir probed.

"Nay, his interest in me or any _ellon_ is not what offended me," Legolas said. "'Twas his use of his position to get what he wanted that repelled me. No one should have to submit to another's desire against his or her wishes. If Oreth conducted his affairs with willing partners, I would not interfere nor would it be my right to do so."

"But you called his desire twisted."

"Not his desire in itself but the means by which he sought to quench it. Why are you asking me this, Elrohir?"

"I am curious, that is all," Elrohir replied. "You have been more exposed to such attentions since we last spoke of this. I wondered whether your thoughts on the matter had changed as well."

Legolas smiled. "I admit I still do not completely understand the attraction between two males as you two do. There is a rightness, a harmony between a man and a woman despite the differences of thought and heart and form, or perhaps I should say precisely because of them. I cannot fathom what two males could offer each other when there is only…" He trailed off for want of the right word.

"There is symmetry," Elrohir said tersely. His brother sneaked a look at him.

Legolas' eyes widened. "I had not thought of that," he commented. "Is it the very sameness of thought and body that draws other Elves to their own kind?"

"Not even between two males _or_ two females is there complete sameness," Elrohir replied. "The rules of attraction between two people apply to everyone. You do not love or desire because of any rational reason; you simply feel it."

Legolas studied him with newfound interest. "You have delved deeply into this matter," he remarked.

Elrohir colored once more. "Curiosity is a remarkable tool for learning," Elladan smoothly put in. "Are you not curious about what it would be like to have a male lover, Legolas?" He pretended not to notice the rather painful nudge his twin dealt him.

Startled, Legolas could only mutely shake his head at first. When he finally did speak, he said, "I confess I have never even felt the need to think about it."

At this Elrohir straightened up and blurted out, "Yet you allowed Sirgon certain liberties before he died!"

Legolas stared at him in shock. "How did you know _that_?" he demanded. "Only my father knew what happened that night."

Elrohir's blush darkened. Elrohir's blush darkened. "Nay, we came to Sirgon's chamber to see how he was. We saw you then. But when we saw your father approaching, we hid."

Legolas gazed at him, his eyes narrowed. Elrohir worried that he should not have revealed their knowledge of that night's events. That neither he nor Elladan had told anyone of what they had witnessed did not diminish the feeling that they had intruded on something very personal to their friend.

The prince lowered his eyes to the campfire. He stared at the dancing flames.

"What I did was not for my sake but for his," Legolas quietly stated. "He had suffered greatly when I could not return his passion. And he was dying. I wanted him to go into the darkness loved and cared for, even in the limited capacity of which I was capable." He sighed. "Had he not been on his deathbed, I would not have allowed him those liberties." He lifted his eyes and met Elrohir's grey gaze. "I hope that satisfies your curiosity?"

Elrohir knew that he should end the subject but he needed to know just one more thing. "Did you consider him twisted for loving you?" he softly asked.

Legolas fell silent as he considered his answer. At length he shook his head. "Nay, not twisted. Only – bent. At least, he truly loved me. The twisted ones are those like Oreth who take out of lust and little or no love."

He suddenly rose, the simple movement imbued with more grace and elegance than was evident even among the Elves. "Good night, _mellynen_."—my friends.

"Good night, Legolas," Elladan said. Elrohir simply nodded his response.

The brothers watched him walk to his place among the other rangers already stretched out on their cloaks. Elladan glanced at his brother. "What did you hope to find out?" he asked.

Elrohir sighed. "Enough to know that it will not be wise to tell him anything. He still feels uneasy about love between Elves of the same kind."

"But he is fair," Elladan protested. "He does not despise those who are different from him nor does he condemn them."

"So he says now. But I wonder what he would think if he were once more made to endure such attention. I have not forgotten how it was with Sirgon or with Oreth today."

"Elrohir—"

"For the love you bear me, do not tell him, Elladan. Do not chance marring whatever is between us."

Elladan gave him a pained look. "'Tis not the way to happiness, _gwanneth nîn_."—my younger twin.

Elrohir's expression was grim. "'Tis better than the road to heartbreak. Keep my secret if you do not wish to bring down more hurt upon me."

oOoOoOo

The following day found the company at the edge of a lightless, seemingly airless clearing. What air there was, was thick with the stench of rot and waste. Here the sun did not enter, its rays unable to penetrate the tightly interlocking branches, leaves and vines above. Yet the Elves bore only the most slender and dimmest of torches, their light just barely enough to illuminate a nightmare setting.

The clearing was strung with spider webs the size of a full-grown Elf. On one upper corner of a deceptively gossamer sheet was a large and hideous shape, its multi-faceted eyes gleaming in the dark, long hairy legs quiescent for the moment. It was surrounded by numerous, smaller shapes, all crawling restlessly across the thick viscous strands of the webs.

"Why did you hunt for this particular spider?" whispered Elladan. He and Legolas were hidden in the thick foliage of a large tree. Every tree in the vicinity concealed two or three rangers, all awaiting the signal to attack the creatures. "This place is quite far from your realm."

"Her nest is too close to one of our paths," Legolas whispered back. "She has already taken some of our people to feed her brood." He glanced at Elladan questioningly. "Why didn't Elrohir come with us?"

Elladan hoped the dim light would not betray his expression of concern. How to tell Legolas that Elrohir had felt supremely uncomfortable about being in such close proximity to him after last night's discussion? He was saved from responding when they heard what sounded like a birdcall emanating from one of the trees.

Suddenly, arrows rained down on the creatures. There was an unearthly shriek as the mother spider rallied its offspring and sounded the alarm. A multitude of black bodies began to converge on the clearing. Within minutes the small space was crawling with dark hirsute shapes.

The arrows had easily dispatched the smaller spiders with their still soft skins. But the large ones were another matter. Their hides were thick and tough. It would need sword and knife to slice through to the point of effecting sufficient damage or death.

Another birdcall signaled the scouts to descend from their perches and fall upon the scurrying spiders. Legolas and Elladan lightly dropped from their tree, blades out and flashing. There was a terrific melee as the spiders sought to beat off their attackers and, failing that, bring down as many with them as they could.

Legolas soon got separated from Elladan as he slew or wounded beast after beast, white _sigil_ stabbing, slashing and slicing. He had just finished off one creature when another one crashed down on his back from above forcing him to the ground.

Knowing that one good bite from the creature would paralyze him, Legolas desperately twisted around and stabbed at it. But his position did not permit him to wound it effectively enough to force it to release him. He felt the tips of fangs against his shoulder. Dropping his knife he grabbed at the creature's head with his hands and, with every ounce of his strength, sought to keep the deadly fangs away from his flesh.

Suddenly, the creature reared up, screaming with pain. Legolas saw the rise and fall of a sword as it cleaved the spider's flesh repeatedly. With only mild surprise, he realized that salvation had come in the form of Elrohir. What astonished him by far was the ferocity with which the Elf-warrior was attacking the spider. He looked fell and furious. Legolas almost did not recognize his friend in the implacable killer above him.

Elrohir kicked the spider carcass off the prince with more force than seemed necessary. Silently he reached out his hand to Legolas and, when the latter took it, pulled him to his feet.

"Your timing was impeccable, _gwador_"—sworn brother—Legolas said with a rueful smile.

Elrohir only nodded. Before Legolas could say another word, he swiftly turned and walked away leaving the prince to stare after him in bewilderment.

Around the clearing the Elves were finishing off any of the creatures that so much as twitched and were cutting down the menacing webs. In the act of slicing through the tough strands of a web, Elladan paused to watch the brief encounter between his friend and his brother. He noted the puzzled expression on Legolas' face, the closed one of Elrohir.

His twin had slain that spider with almost uncalled for brutality. He wondered if Legolas had recognized the emotion that had driven Elrohir to such a fury. He hoped not. For Elladan had seen that his brother had attacked that spider with all the passion and vehemence of an Elf intent on defending his mate from harm.

Glossary:  
Edain – Men of the Three Houses of Elf-friends in the First Age  
Peredhel – Half-elf/Half-elven  
mellonen – my friend  
ellon – male Elf

_To be continued_…


	31. Melethron: The Ancient Path 3 Disclosure

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III: Disclosure  
As the company made its way back to more wholesome environs, Legolas found his eyes drifting constantly to Elrohir. He had chosen to walk with another group of rangers, a matter that was so unusual it had elicited no small amount of surprise from the company. Legolas had the unhappy feeling that Elrohir was avoiding him but he could not understand why. Had he offended his friend in any way? He searched his memory but could not think of any plausible reason for the other Elf's behavior.

Legolas glanced at Elladan who walked beside him. The older twin was also staring at Elrohir. But his expression was hard to define. His face was blank. Too blank. He was concerned about his brother, that much Legolas could tell but nothing more.

They returned to the clearing where they had spent the previous night. Once more they set up camp but this time there were no untoward incidents as far as Legolas was concerned. Oreth had carefully kept his distance since he discovered that the prince's reputation as a mettlesome warrior was well deserved.

However, just as Legolas began to restring his bow, Oreth did approach him. He squatted beside the prince though not too closely, Legolas noted with some amusement.

"Did that creature injure you?" he briefly asked.

"Nay, Elrohir reached me in time," Legolas replied.

"So I noticed. He should receive some reward for saving the fairest prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas paused in his task. There was something in Oreth's tone. Something he couldn't quite place. He glanced at the older Elf. "If my father gave a reward to every _Edhel_ that did me a service he would soon be mired in poverty," he remarked mildly.

Oreth stared at him strangely. "Elrohir would likely prefer his reward came from you, Legolas," he commented. "I doubt your father could give him anything as desirable as that which you already possess."

Legolas eyed the other Elf curiously. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Oreth shrugged. "Elrohir seems... taken with you. It should not be difficult to please him. And perhaps he is more to your taste."

The prince's eyes narrowed dangerously. There was no mistaking the meaning or malice in Oreth's tone now. "Take care, Oreth," he warned softly. "You speak of a son of Elrond of Imladris."

"As to that, stories do reach our ears even all the way from Imladris," Oreth replied. "'Tis said that he is adventurous and indiscriminate. Even more than his brother who, by all accounts, is no laggard in the pursuit of pleasure. There is no telling what Lord Elrond's younger son has already tried."

On that cryptic note he got to his feet and walked away.

Come morning the company headed southwest. There had been reports of Orcs in the vicinity, issuing from the heights of the Misty Mountains. They were said to be harassing small settlements in the area and steadily moving eastwards toward Mirkwood.

The Elves of the Woodland Realm cared little for their neighbors on the western borders of their forest with whom they only had minimal contact. But they did care for the woods and the Orcs despoiled the woods with a wanton cruelty that was unknown to the Firstborn. Fortuitously, by ridding Mirkwood of these predators they also succored their neighbors and this made their efforts all the more worthwhile.

At noon they stopped at a small glade for the midday meal. Once more Elrohir sat apart from his brother and friend. This only served to pique Legolas' curiosity. He decided it was time to pry some information out of Elladan.

After the meal, he approached the older twin who had settled himself on a log and was examining his arrows for any damage. Elladan glanced up in some surprise as Legolas sat down beside him.

"Do you remember what happened yesterday?" the prince started. "How Elrohir killed the spider that had felled me?"

Elladan felt his muscles tense. Legolas would not have brought up the subject for no significant reason. Hoping to stave off or avoid the subject altogether, he teased, "Aye, and I cannot believe you needed saving. You actually did not see that huge beast. I thought you Wood-elves had eyes in the backs of your heads."

Legolas smiled. "Even the best can make mistakes."

"What? Even a prince of the Woodland Realm?"

"Yes, and you can stop trying to change the subject, Elladan. I know what you're trying to do."

Elladan rolled his eyes in resignation and sighed. "Very well. Ask what you will."

"Why was Elrohir so savage? 'Tis not his way. It never has been for as long as I have known you two."

"You are asking why a warrior was savage in battle?"

"Nay, I am asking why Elrohir was so different yesterday. He hated the creature, Elladan. 'Twas just a beast, evil perhaps but a beast nevertheless that had never done anything to him personally. Yet he slew it as if it had. Why was that?"

Elladan swallowed hard. So, Legolas had noticed the difference. He had not discerned the reason, caught up as he had been in the business of staying alive, but he had noticed. He wondered how much he could reveal without actually betraying his brother.

"If my brother has been behaving oddly 'tis because of late he has been sorely burdened with a problem," Elladan said carefully.

"'Tis what I suspected," Legolas said. "Can you not tell me what this problem is?"

"He has forbidden me to speak of it to anyone. Other than myself, only our parents know."

"And what have Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían done to help their son?"

Elladan shook his head. "_Adar a_ _Naneth_ want to help but they are powerless to do so. Only one person can help Elrohir and unfortunately he does not believe that person can – or will."

"You talk like a Wizard," Legolas complained. "All allusions and no substance. Please speak plainly. What is this thing that burdens Elrohir so?"

Elladan hesitated. He was torn between keeping his brother's confidence and seeking a solution to his brother's problem. His dilemma was not made any easier when the solution could very well be sitting right beside him. He looked up and sought Elrohir.

His twin was sitting by himself beneath a birch tree sharpening his sword with all the appearance of industry. But his mind was obviously not on what he was doing. And so lost was he in thought that he had not taken care to guard his face. He was deeply unhappy and it smote Elladan's heart to see him that way.

"He desires but his desire is not returned," Elladan finally stated.

Legolas was surprised. "How can this be? He has always been capable of capturing any _elleth_ he desires."

"'Tis not any of his past lovers who haunts his thoughts and bedevils his heart," Elladan said. "He has come to yearn for a most unlikely person." Here he hesitated, uncertain whether to continue. But Legolas was looking at him intently, waiting for him to do so. He let his breath out. He had not been aware that he'd been holding it. "'Tis no _elleth_ I speak of, Legolas."

The prince's mouth dropped open at that. "No _elleth_?"—Elf-maid?—he repeated after a long pause. "Then those questions he was asking…" He wonderingly peered at Elladan. "Why did he ask me? Did he fear that I would recoil from him?"

"Would you?" Elladan countered with his own question.

Legolas fell silent. Involuntarily, he looked up, spotted Elrohir and stared at him. By chance the other Elf looked up, too, and their eyes met. Elrohir flushed and hastily averted his eyes.

Legolas looked back at Elladan. "I would not do that," he said slowly. "How could I, you and he are as brothers to me."

Elladan stared at him hard. "Are you certain? He believes you will. You have shown yourself to be uncomfortable about such matters. 'Tis why he refuses to share this with you."

"I would not hurt him in that manner," Legolas protested. "I have not forgotten Sirgon's pain."

"Neither has he."

Legolas stiffened. "How great is this passion of his?"

"Great enough. He does not know if 'tis something that will eventually pass, he only knows it needs to be assuaged. Perhaps only then will he be released from this... obsession."

"Then why not speak to this Elf? Is he not inclined towards Elrohir?"

"Nay, he does not desire the love of another male."

"But Elrohir is different. He is fair of face, high of lineage and as skillful a lover as anyone could wish for. Surely this Elf would not mind doing Elrohir that one favor?"

Elladan stared at him disbelievingly then laughed, an ironic edge to his mirth. "Do you hear what you are saying? Would _you_ do this?"

Legolas stared back then nodded in rueful acknowledgement of his friend's astonishment. "You are right, those were foolish words," he said apologetically.

Elladan paused for a heart beat. "Not if you meant them," he said in a low voice.

Legolas frowned. "What do you mean?" When Elladan failed to respond at once, he said, "What are you suggesting, Elladan? That I have influence over this Elf and can persuade him?"

"You might say that," Elladan answered. He was looking so meaningfully at the prince that Legolas suddenly shivered with unknown foreboding. A thought began to form in his mind, a thought that seemed so preposterous that he was hard put to give it any credence.

"Who is this Elf, Elladan?" he demanded softly, warily. "Who is he whom Elrohir grieves over?"

Elladan took a deep, steadying breath. "He will have my head for this but it needs to be said for his sake," he murmured. He looked pleadingly at Legolas. "If I tell you now 'tis because I desire happiness for my brother," he told the prince. "I pray you will not only cause him more pain."

"I swear I will not hurt him."

A short silence. Then— "You are the one, Legolas."

For the second time Legolas' mouth fell open. He was unable to speak or move. Indeed, for a moment he could not even think. And when he did his first rational thought was, _Why did I not see it_? Oreth's insinuations finally began to make sense.

"Do you understand now why he fought in that manner? Why he followed you and Oreth?" Elladan asked softly. Legolas turned dazed eyes to him. "He was protecting you. He could not bear the thought that evil might befall you."

Legolas' blue eyes bore into him with an intensity that would have, had he been a mere Man, made him retreat in fear. "As one would protect his mate," the prince stated evenly.

Elladan nodded. "What will you do now?" he asked worriedly.

Legolas glanced back at Elrohir who had since risen from his position. "I will talk to him when time and circumstance allow."

"Do not make me regret telling you this."

"I would never wittingly hurt him." Legolas hesitated. "But I cannot control his feelings or his response to mine."

"Legolas..."

The prince heard the note of warning and worry in his friend's voice. He held up his hand to forestall any further words on Elladan's part. "I will do my best to help him. Come what may, he is still my friend and as dear to me as a brother."

He rose and walked back to where the other rangers were packing their gear. Feeling somewhat drained, Elladan gathered his own things. _The problem is he no longer sees you only as a friend or brother, Legolas. Please remember that._ Elladan spared one more thought for his brother. _Forgive me if I have done ill in telling him, Elrohir_.

oOoOoOo

They had marched for the better part of the afternoon and now drew near to the borders of the forest. Here the trees were not as close and the sun could filter down to reach the forest floor in large, scattered patches of gold. The Rivendell twins felt their spirits rise at the change in atmosphere.

Oreth selected a few of the company and began to divide them into pairs. It was his intention that each pair would scout a particular area and by spreading them widely they would be able to cover more ground in the shortest time possible. The rest would remain behind and await word from the others.

As he assigned the groupings, Legolas glanced at Elrohir. The Elf had rejoined his brother but it was obvious he had done so only because Elladan had left Legolas' side. The prince frowned.

"Elrohir? Whom shall I pair you with?" Oreth was saying. "Your brother?"

"Nay," Legolas suddenly spoke up. "I can go with him."

Across the circle of Elves, Elrohir stared at him in dismay. Oreth, too, eyed him quizzically. Then the captain smiled. It was not a nice smile, Legolas decided. He smiled back but did not let it reach his eyes. Oreth turned away.

"Very well, Legolas will go with you, Elrohir," he announced shortly.

While the assignments continued, Elladan caught Legolas' attention. The Elvenlord was stricken with worry and guilt and his stare, if not his expression, betrayed his feelings. Before leaving with Elrohir, Legolas quickly crossed over to him and said, "'Tis an opportune time. I had best take advantage of it."

"Remember your oath," Elladan murmured.

Legolas nodded and turned to follow Elrohir. They disappeared from Elladan's sight.

The two walked a fair distance in near silence before Legolas attempted to converse. They were now at the very outskirts of Mirkwood. Only a thin line of trees separated them from the open space beyond. The prince watched his companion smoothly weave his way among the trees, as silently and stealthily as any Silvan Elf.

"Elrohir, I have not properly thanked you," Legolas said, careful to keep his voice soft.

"For what?" Elrohir asked in surprise. They continued to move in a southwardly direction.

"For slaying the spider that attacked me."

"Oh that. 'Twas a small matter," Elrohir said dismissively.

"'Twas no small matter to me," Legolas remarked. "I might have ended up in its belly had you not killed it."

Elrohir flushed slightly. "I did not mean to belittle the danger to you," he said.

"I know. And I thank you for the service. You probably saved my life." When Elrohir merely nodded acceptance of his thanks, Legolas decided to be more direct. "Which is why I feel I must return the favor."

Elrohir glanced at him furtively from behind a slender tree. "There is no need," he stated.

"If you have a problem there is a need. I wish you would let me help you, my friend."

Elrohir now stopped and looked warily at him. "What are you talking about? What problem?"

Legolas came to a halt as well. He came around the thick trunk of an ancient oak and faced Elrohir. He did not fail to observe the quick rise and fall of the other Elf's chest signaling his tension. "Your problem regarding me," Legolas quietly replied.

Elrohir's eyes widened. He opened his mouth then closed it when words failed to come forth. Legolas reached out a comforting hand but the other Elf stepped away. Legolas dropped his hand and waited.

"He told you?" Elrohir finally manage to choke. "Elladan told you?" At Legolas' slight nod, he let out a ragged breath of anger. "I asked him not to!" he hissed. "How could he betray my confidence?"

"He did it for your sake," Legolas pointed out in defense of Elladan. "He loves you and wishes to help you. Surely you will not hold that against him."

Elrohir went still, breathing in deeply in a bid to calm down. "Is that why you asked to be paired with me?" he asked.

"I thought it would give us a chance to talk," Legolas admitted. "I want to help you, _mellon nîn_."—my friend.

"Help me?" Elrohir laughed harshly. "You cannot help me, Thranduilion. No one can."

Legolas winced at the impersonal address Elrohir used on him. "You do not know that," he pressed on. "You have not asked me; how can you know that I cannot help you?"

Elrohir turned piercing twilight eyes on him. Legolas swallowed hard as he discerned the other Elf's misery. "If Sirgon was bent, what do you make of me, _ernil daur_?"—forest prince?—he challenged.

Legolas felt heat suffuse his cheeks. He had forgotten what had he said of Sirgon during that strange conversation just two days ago. He had used the word in an attempt to contrast the love of Sirgon and the lust of Oreth. It belatedly occurred to him that Elrohir would have perceived it as a slight and felt its sting keenly.

He chose his words carefully. "I only see someone who is dear to me and in need of my aid," he said in measured tones. "I will not judge you. 'Tis not my right and even if it were, I still would not judge you."

The grey eyes suddenly gleamed with unshed tears. Elrohir turned away but his despondency was palpable. Legolas felt his heart go out to him. He approached him quietly and placed his hand on his shoulder. "What can I do, _gwador nîn_?"—my sworn brother?—he softly asked.

Elrohir shook his head hopelessly. "What I need you cannot give," he whispered. "Leave me in peace."

"But you are not in peace and you will not find it," Legolas reasoned. "Not this way."

"What way then?"

The prince sighed. "I do not pretend to understand what drives your feelings for me. If I could assuage them I would but…"

"But 'tis beyond your capacity to bring yourself so low," Elrohir said, bitterness limning his words.

"Nay, not low. But 'tis not my inclination and you would know it. I would not hurt you further by attempting something I know is not my preference."

"You think I do not know that?" Elrohir pulled away from Legolas' grasp. His voice had risen slightly. "Why think you did I choose not to confide in you? I witnessed your shock when you learned of Sirgon's passion for you. I saw how you treated Oreth. I will not endure your loathing, Legolas."

"I could never loath you!" Legolas exclaimed in a hushed voice. "You are closer than friend or brother to me."

"That, too, I cannot endure," Elrohir breathed out.

"What?"

"Do you still not see? You are now more than either to me. Pretending that nothing has changed, that I do not feel differently about you has been a burden I have carried each and every day for nigh on three hundred years. It was a mistake to come here. Your very presence torments me." There was a catch in his voice that made him sound utterly vulnerable. "I am weary, Calenlass. I cannot carry on with this pretense."

Legolas felt his heart constrict. "What do you mean to do?" he asked tightly.

Elrohir stared out at the wide space beyond the trees. He looked spent, bereft of spirit and energy. "I will return to Imladris as soon as can be," he answered. He looked back at Legolas and his eyes were bright with sadness. "And we shall no longer see each other, prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas gasped. "You cannot mean that!" he protested. "We have been friends for years beyond count. Elrohir, I do not wish to lose you!"

"You lost me the day I learned to desire you," Elrohir said.

"Nay! You cannot do this! You are a son of Elrond; you cannot give up so easily!"

Elrohir swung around suddenly. His eyes had lost their listlessness. Legolas was startled by the depth of anger and the shadow of violence in them.

"Give up easily?" Elrohir almost spat out. "You have no concept of what I have done to try and relieve myself of these feelings! The depths I have descended to rid myself of these desires!"

Legolas felt his stomach churn. Surely Elrohir did not mean... "You have not..." he faltered. "Elrohir, I cannot believe you would do as Oreth has done!"

Elrohir closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. "You must think very lowly of me if you would actually consider me capable of coercion!" he commented with a dryness that was as acrid as hemlock. He opened his eyes and gazed at the archer. He took note of the other's sudden pallor, knew his bluntness had caused it. He sighed. "I care not for unwilling partners. I thought you knew me better than that."

"Forgive me," Legolas said. "That was unworthy of me." He studied his friend with rising anxiety. He felt his guilt rise up like a cloud to choke him. _Remember your oath_. Elladan's plea reverberated in his mind.

"I should not have tainted myself so," Elrohir suddenly said. "I sought to erase you from my mind but by trying to assuage my need through others, I only reminded myself of what I could not have. They tried their best to make me forget but how could they when they were not you?"

"Elrohir…" Legolas had never felt so helpless. How arrogant was I to think I could solve this problem so easily, he thought. "I just – I wish I could help." He saw Elrohir's shoulders stiffen, knew it was wrong to broach the subject once more. But in his frustration he found himself unable to hold back the words. "Is there nothing I can do?"

He was suddenly grasped by the arms and thrust bodily against the unyielding trunk of a massive tree. The force with which his back hit the trunk was enough to elicit a hiss of pain from him. But Elrohir was no longer capable of hearing or seeing anything beyond his own misery.

"When will you stop offering what you cannot give?" he snarled, his eyes glittering with barely restrained violence. "The only help I want is beyond your ability to give unless you have suddenly developed a yearning for this!"

Legolas gasped in shock when Elrohir's mouth descended upon his. Unthinkingly, he grabbed at the other's wrist for his first instinct was to protect himself and do to the Elvenlord as he had done to Oreth. But Elrohir broke away as suddenly as he had closed the distance between them, his dark eyes wide with realization. Guilt, dismay and grief mingled in their silver depths.

"O, Elbereth, what have I done?" he whispered.

Silence fell between the two Elves and the minutes ticked by.

In the intervening time Legolas fought to still his trembling. He had never experienced such an assault. There had been nothing like the tentativeness of Sirgon's unrequited passion for him or the mix of seduction and coercion that Oreth had tried to employ on him. His lips ached as they had never done after a kiss shared with any maiden he had ever had. But more than that he was shaken by the sheer strength that had been brought to bear upon him.

And why should that surprise me? he woozily thought. He and Elrohir were equals in every way. They were both born of exalted lineage and possessed more power than most of the Elves their fathers governed.

He looked warily at Elrohir and felt as if a stranger stood before him. He did not know this Elf, did not see in him the friend with whom he had oft joined forces to drive their respective families to distraction; did not remember the brother in whom he had confided all the joy and heartbreak of early infatuations and the pleasures and frustrations of physical yearnings and received like secrets in return. He could not even glimpse the comrade-in-arms at whose side he had fought many a battle or faced danger with. He tried to dispel the shroud of fear that blinded him but failed.

Elrohir saw the shadow that darkened Legolas' eyes and felt apprehension and shame engulf him. He cringed inside as he wondered what the prince now thought of him. But he had to do something. He had to make amends.

"Legolas...?" He reached out hesitantly, praying to the Powers that the other Elf did not feel too deeply betrayed. But as his hand neared one shoulder, Legolas recoiled. The prince let out a shuddering breath and swiftly stepped back out of reach, his eyes clearly mirroring his fear.

Whatever pain Elrohir had felt before did not compare with the anguish he now experienced. _I should have gone at once. Now there is nothing left, not even a memory of all that was pure and good_.

"Forgive me," he whispered. And he turned and fled.

Legolas sucked his breath in sharply. The sound of Elrohir's broken apology snapped him out of his daze. He stared as his friend was swallowed by the forest. And suddenly, he remembered once more who Elrohir was and what he had been to him and still was. _He is breaking and I am the cause. I cannot let this happen!_

"Elrohir!" He raced after the dark-haired Elf.

Glossary:  
Adar a Naneth – Father and Mother  
Thranduilion – son of Thranduil

_To be continued_…


	32. Melethron: The Ancient Path 4 Impasse

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV: Impasse  
Legolas painfully pondered what he could possibly say to Elrohir when he caught up with him. If he caught up with him at all. The Elf-knight was running along the perimeter of trees on the border of the woods. He had a large head start and was as swift a runner as Legolas and was as tireless. It would not be easy to catch up with him.

He finally lost sight of Elrohir and stopped to search for any clues as to his friend's passage. It was then that he heard the sounds of metal clashing against metal and harsh guttural cries amidst the trees. _Orcs!_ His mouth grim, Legolas sped towards the sounds of strife.

He burst onto a scene of carnage and chaos. Elrohir was fending off more than a dozen Orcs. Several corpses lay at his feet. Even as he plunged into battle, Legolas had the presence of mind to sound off a shrill birdcall to summon aid. Then he was in the thick of the fighting, bow singing and knife slashing.

He swore under his breath as more Orcs appeared. He knew that he and Elrohir were in great peril. Skilled and valiant as they were, they were greatly outnumbered. Sooner or later they would be overcome if help did not reach them in time. He chose not to think of the consequences of capture. What sport these brutes would have with the sons of the king of Mirkwood and the lord of Rivendell he dared not even imagine. He would not allow himself to be taken captive. Better to die out in the clean air under the eaves of the forest than to endure protracted torment deep in the noisome dens of the Orcs.

He was on the verge of despairing when suddenly a figure in green and brown crashed into the Orc before him taking it down to the ground. He had a second to recognize Elladan before the Rivendell Elf plunged his sword into the writhing creature. Arrows whizzed through the air, finding their targets with deadly accuracy. Legolas felt great relief. They were no longer alone.

Reeling from the rapid change from imminent victory to certain defeat, the Orcs began to retreat. But the Elves had no intention of letting any escape to spawn once more in the darkness of the Misty Mountains. They pursued the fleeing Orcs and hemmed them in. Faced with certain death, the creatures fought back with a ferocity born of desperation.

Legolas turned to look for Elrohir just in time to see him stumble, a long deep gash marring his right thigh, blood drenching his leg. Yet he battled on though the Orc he fought had forced him to his knees. The Orc viciously kicked Elrohir's wounded leg. The twin fell back, pain jarring his injured limb. Fear lent Legolas speed as he grabbed an arrow and fit it to his bow.

Elrohir looked up and saw the Orc raise its black sword. Certain he had fought his final battle, he braced himself for the killing blow.

It never came. The Orc cried out in shock, its body arching toward Elrohir. He quickly rolled away as the creature toppled over. An arrow protruded from its back.

Elrohir glanced up in time to see Legolas wending his way to him. Around them the battle dwindled as the Elves systematically slaughtered the last of their foes.

Legolas dropped to one knee before the stricken Elf. As he bent to examine the wound, he heard Elrohir murmur, "My thanks" Legolas simply nodded his acknowledgement, all his attention on the gash.

Elladan hurried over, worry limning his fair face. Legolas grabbed his water flask as the former knelt beside him. "'Tis deep," the older twin said. "We must stop the bleeding. I pray 'tis not poisoned as well."

Elrohir confirmed that there was no poison at work; though the wound throbbed and stung atrociously, there was none of the burning pain associated with orkish poison. Elladan washed the injury then bound a strip of binding tightly around his brother's thigh to constrict the steady crimson flow.

The Elf-knight was not the only wounded though his injury was by far the worse. The Elves tended to their comrades before piling the carcasses of the Orcs into a mound far from the woods and setting it afire. Then they applied themselves to the problem of getting their wounded back to safety.

Legolas and Elladan constructed a litter for Elrohir despite the latter's protest. "I can walk," he said. "I have no intention of slowing everyone down."

"Your wound will bleed again," Elladan reasoned with him. "Do not let Legolas' timely rescue be for naught."

At the mention of the archer's name, Elrohir flushed and fell silent. That something pained him besides his wound was readily apparent to anyone who took the time to observe him. It was fortunate that the other Elves lacked the time to indulge in such matters thus sparing him the humiliation of coming under scrutiny. He already knew that the others were wondering how he and Legolas could have possibly been taken unawares.

It stood to reason that they would find it difficult to consider their prince at fault; he was too experienced a ranger to make such a mistake. Elrohir was fairly certain they thought he'd been careless. And they would be right considering his state of mind at the time.

As he lifted the litter along with Legolas and two other warriors, the older twin glared at the prince.

"What did you say to him?" The hissed words filled Legolas with guilt. "I should never have told you. You swore you would not hurt him."

"I... I tried to help... I am sorry," he murmured.

Elladan blew out his breath angrily. "'Twould have been better had you not than to have him so distraught now," he bit out.

To this the archer could offer no reply.

They came to the Wood-elves' abode after two days of long marches. By then Elrohir was able to walk short distances albeit with a limp. His wound was deep, almost to the bone but his determination not to be carried into Thranduil's halls gave him the wherewithal to bear the discomfort of getting on his feet earlier than might be expected of so grievous an injury.

Legolas saw the brothers to Elrohir's chamber but the coolness of the older twin and the remoteness of the younger discouraged him from lingering. Dispiritedly, he whiled away the rest of the day in his chambers, mulling over his dilemma. A part of him ached that he might have lost not just one but both of his friends. Elladan had barely spoken to him during the long trek back. Legolas could not blame him. The former had taken the risk of confiding his brother's secret to him trusting that the prince would help Elrohir. Instead, the problem had only worsened.

In need of counsel and comfort, Legolas headed for his father's study. His people saw Thranduil as a stern and undemonstrative man. Few knew of the Elvenking who softened in the presence of his youngest son so long as there were no eyes to witness that softness.

Legolas knocked softly at the study door. His father's voice soon bid him to enter

"_Ada?_"—Papa? "May I have a moment of your time?" he asked as he stepped in. The king was standing at his table bent over numerous scrolls.

Thranduil pushed the scrolls aside and looked up. It did not take him long to discern the distress in his heir's eyes. "What troubles you, _ion nîn_?"—my son—he queried gesturing for Legolas to take a seat.

"I need your advice." Legolas sank into a chair. "Do you remember what happened with Sirgon?" he tentatively started.

Thranduil started at the name. It was many years since he had even thought of the incident that had disturbed him so deeply. He looked at Legolas closely.

"One can hardly forget such an event," he remarked dryly. "Why do you bring it up?"

The prince sighed. "Because it has happened again," he quietly replied. "And I do not know how to deal with it."

Thranduil's eyes widened then narrowed ominously. "You dealt with Sirgon well enough," he pointed out. "Why should there be any difficulty now?"

Legolas raised bright eyes to his father, confusion and hurt in their depths. So like his mother's eyes, the King thought with a pang. "'Tis no common Elf who suffers for love of me, _Ada_," he said tightly. He hesitated then took a deep breath before saying, "'Tis Elrohir."

Thranduil's reaction was essentially the same as his son's had been. His mouth dropped open and he was rendered speechless for a moment. When he finally found his tongue he could only exclaim, "Elrohir? _Our_ Elrohir?"

Legolas nodded. Thranduil stared long at him, nonplussed. "How can that be?" he questioned. "He has never shown more than the love of a friend for you. Granted that your closeness is greater than any I have ever known yet I would swear he never displayed any unseemly feelings for you."

"I know not how it happened," Legolas admitted. "I only know that he is hurting." He rose from his seat and began to pace aimlessly around the chamber. "He kept it a secret from me. 'Twas Elladan who finally revealed it and 'twas only at my insistence." He stopped at the window and fingered the tassel on the drapery distractedly. "Elrohir did not want to lose our friendship. He chose to keep silent for that reason even when it was tearing him apart inside."

Legolas suddenly turned his head and looked beseechingly at his father. "Why must I be the cause of such pain, _Ada_?" he implored. "Why should Elrohir turn to me? I do not understand!" He shuddered with the effort to calm himself. "I want to help him. I cannot bear to see him suffering because of me."

Thranduil's anger had started to build but at the sight of his son's unhappiness, it subsided. It was Elrohir they were talking about after all. Elrohir, who along with his brother, were almost like sons to Thranduil despite all the mischief and mayhem they had oft wreaked on his household. Besides, the twins had been reared in the Noldorin-drenched culture of Imladris and Lothlórien. Thranduil could hardly judge Elrohir on something the younger Elf knew as natural to Elfkind. What had held him back was not social sanction but his fear of ending a treasured friendship.

He made himself regard Legolas not as his son but as another Elf might. There was no denying the beauty of his countenance for handsome seemed too tame a word to use when it came to the youngest prince of Mirkwood. He had his father's fair coloring and tensile strength and his mother's comely features and slender build. He was a child of elusive light and solid wood. Ethereal one moment, all too real the next.

Thranduil shook his head. Sirgon's desire he could easily fathom. That one had always been inclined to his own kind. But Elrohir's desire was totally unlooked for. Though he knew the twins had dallied with Elf-males, both had always been such hot-blooded pursuers of female-kind to suggest that either could feel anything more than mere lust for the males they had bedded. Yet here was Elrohir languishing from want of a male Elf. It simply seemed impossible.

The King stopped at the thought. _Unless that male was Legolas and Legolas alone?_ Love and desire did not follow predictable patterns. All unbidden surprising turns could appear and often did, to the frustration and bewilderment of many a soul, Elf, Man or Dwarf.

"'Tis not your fault, Legolas," he said at length. "Do not blame yourself for what you are."

"And what am I?" Legolas asked bitterly.

Thranduil neared him and with a finger under his chin, tipped his son's face up so that he could look upon his face. "You are gifted with great beauty even by the measure of our people. Beauty always draws admiration and desire." He released his son from his gaze.

Legolas let his breath out. "But why should that affect him now? We have always been as close friends and brothers to each other, nothing more."

"Perhaps 'tis that very closeness that has brought things to this pass." The King walked away, putting his thoughts in order. "I warrant he has always appreciated your comeliness even from the start of your acquaintance. Certainly, his regard for you has always been more profound than most but I doubt he thought his feelings anything more than the natural affection of one friend for another."

Thranduil looked back at his now attentive son. "But affection is not unchangeable. It can evolve, alter in depth or nature. Mayhap Elrohir's desire for you should not surprise us. In hindsight, it seems inevitable." At his son's perplexed reaction, he pointed out: "The twins' appreciation for beauty has always been keener than what we deem usual and they oft express that appreciation through physical means. Their considerable reputation in bed-play did not come by accident."

Legolas felt his cheeks burn with discomfort. It was strange to hear his father speaking so frankly about something most children rarely discussed with their parents. But what Thranduil was saying was very enlightening for there was the ring of truth in his words. He looked back upon his relationship with the twins.

He knew they were acutely aware of his uncommon beauty. They had teased him mercilessly about it throughout their early acquaintance. And when they had grown into full adulthood had been gracious enough to even compliment him for it albeit with much jesting on the side. Of course, that had not discouraged them from competing with him or his older brothers for the attention of every female Elf from the Woodland Realm to the Hidden Vale. But the twins' carnal pursuits had also encompassed the Grey Havens and Lothlórien, included male _Edhil_ of all persuasions and extended even to mortal women much to their parent's dismay.

In one thing his father was right. The brothers didn't merely enjoy physical release. They reveled in it. They rarely contented themselves with admiring beauty or grace from afar. Both had often had to depart for Mirkwood or Lórien to cool their heels while Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían soothed the ruffled feelings of vengeful fathers or scorned females as well as the occasional heartbroken _ellon_.—male Elf.

Enlightening. But it did not solve the problem at hand. He glanced thoughtfully at his father, wondering at the king's relative lack of unease.

"You do not seem as disturbed by this as you were with Sirgon," Legolas observed.

Thranduil smiled faintly. "Because 'tis Elrohir we speak of," he conceded. "I can trust him as I would not trust another Elf."

"Trust?"

"Not to take advantage of your closeness for his own ends. He has already proven his honor and valor in this. As you said, he endured in silence rather than spoil your friendship."

"Yet now he will end it," Legolas scowled. "What use have I for an unspoiled friendship that exists only in memory?"

Thranduil sighed. "If 'tis the only way for him to find peace, I cannot blame him for taking this measure," he said.

_They tried their best to make me forget but how could they when they were not you?_

His friend's anguished words flashed through Legolas' mind. He felt great sorrow settle in his heart. Elrohir would indeed leave Mirkwood never to return. Their long friendship would end and everything they had ever shared would be mere remembrance. The very thought of an eternity to come with no further contact with the Elf-knight made him desolate. No longer would he know Elrohir's sage counsel and gently voiced praise, hear his infectious laughter or see the veritable play of emotions in his argent eyes. Already his heart ached at the imminent loss of the gallant _Edhel_ who had so enthralled him from the start and made him feel whole.

Legolas rebelled at the thought.

His circle of close and trusted friends had always been small by choice. And the twins were the closest of all. By the grace of the Valar, he had been blessed with the friendship of two souls who offered their love and loyalty absolutely and unconditionally. Elrohir's willingness to put aside his own happiness to prevent Legolas from becoming entangled in his problem was testament to that love.

Legolas knew he could not bear to lose the Elf-knight.

"Do you think it will pass if he were to find release?" he softly asked his father.

"I do not know," Thranduil replied. "Sometimes a thing that we want but cannot have grows in significance precisely because we cannot attain it." He stopped and stared at Legolas suspiciously. "Why do you ask that? What are you thinking of, Legolas?"

"Elrohir needs me," he quietly replied. "If 'tis the only help I can offer him…"

Thranduil gasped at the implications of his son's reply. "Surely you cannot mean that! Elrohir would never allow you to make such a sacrifice!"

"I do not intend to give him a choice and have him make an even greater sacrifice!" Legolas replied somewhat heatedly. "He is dear to me. I will do what I feel is best for him; what will heal him."

"And how often do you think will you have to effect this – this cure?" Thranduil said harshly.

"As often as needs be," Legolas retorted. "I will not lose my friend. I will not!"

Thranduil halted on the verge of a scathing response. His son's loyalty to Elrohir was touching, as was his willingness to take upon himself so strange a burden. Thranduil had no personal animosity toward Elrohir and even sympathized with him. But he was a father and possessed all the protectiveness of a parent towards its young.

"If you do not truly desire such a coupling he will know it," he bluntly informed the prince. "Then you will have caused him even more pain."

Legolas was taken aback. His father's words effectively reminded him of the nature of the task he sought to undertake. A coupling. He recoiled mentally and emotionally from the images the term conjured. But that was what Elrohir needed from him. There was no going around it.

"Do not rush into this, _pen neth_"—young one—Thranduil pleaded with him. "You may only do grievous harm. I say this not only for your sake but for Elrohir's as well. He is dear to me, too."

Legolas nodded slowly. "I will give serious thought to this, _Ada_. Thank you for your counsel."

The King watched his son as he left the study. He sighed, worry etched on his face. There was no knowing what Legolas would do. Nor was there any stopping him when he did decide what to do. Silently and with not a little exasperation, he invoked the Powers who watched over headstrong Elves and children.

Glossary:  
Edhil (sing. Edhel) – Elves

_To be continued_…


	33. Melethron: The Ancient Path 5 Truth

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V: Truth  
Elrohir looked out at the darkened woods. It was evening and he was seated on a long bench on one of the balconies that lined the delved palace's eastern wing. He had lifted his long legs onto the bench, bending one so that he could rest his arms on his knee and curl the other limb under. A week had passed since the battle with the orcs. His injured leg no longer caused him to limp and only a slight twinge now and then reminded him of his mishap.

He could hear the faint sounds of music and laughter coming from the main hall where the king was feting some noble guests. Although his twin had talked him into dressing for the occasion, at the last minute Elrohir had chosen to eschew the festivities for he could summon neither the heart nor the mood to indulge in anything merry this night. He had come to this quiet spot in hopes of solitude and a chance to sort out his thoughts and feelings. From his perch he could survey the dark woods and breathe in the sweet forest air.

Sadness infused him as he realized he would never see these woods again. His had not been rash words when he had declared that he would depart Mirkwood and never return. It was the only thing he could do to ease his heartache. Far from the source of his desire perhaps he would find some semblance of peace. And failing that at least there would be no constant reminders of his last conversation with Legolas and the resulting debacle. He sighed heavily.

"How fare you, Elrohir?"

He started and turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Trust a Wood-elf to sneak up on you without really trying, he thought a little tartly.

"_Im mae_, Legolas," he managed to reply. I am well.

He swallowed hard at the sight of his friend and quickly turned his attention back to the forest. It had been three days since they had so much as seen each other, much less exchanged a word. He had been ill prepared to see the prince once more. Especially the way he appeared tonight.

In the torchlight, his fair hair gleamed gold and mithril and his eyes had so darkened as to be almost indigo. Upon his head he wore a simple circlet wrought of silver and adorned by tiny intertwining leaves of gold. He was clad not in his usual green and brown wool or leather or other such sturdy material but in a delicately embroidered richly textured midnight blue robe over a silvery white under-tunic. In place of the rugged long breeches and soft yet hardy boots worn for more strenuous duties were thick finely knit hose in muted grey and light shoes in a dusky shade that came up to the ankles. He looked every inch the warrior prince yet the fairness of his hair and countenance juxtaposed against the darkness of his raiment lent him an air of innocence that was almost otherworldly.

Elrohir thought he had never seen a more beautiful creature, man or woman, and he silently cursed the trick fate had played on him by guiding him here and making it possible for them to cross paths. _I should have stayed in my room_.

"You did not join us," Legolas said. "Several of the guests asked about you."

"I was not in the mood for company," Elrohir answered.

Legolas sat down on one end of the bench and looked at him. His steady gaze discomforted Elrohir. The dark-haired Elf was at a loss as to where to cast his eyes without letting them alight on the figure opposite him.

He did not notice that the prince studied him as well. Legolas had taken his father's counsel to heart. He had given much thought to the matter and had come to only one conclusion. If he could come to desire or, at the very least, tolerate a coupling with the Elf-knight as his father had so baldly put it...

With singular determination, Legolas bent his thought to appreciating his friend's comeliness unhindered by the restraints of their friendship; tried to see Elrohir from the point of view of the younger twin's numerous admirers and past lovers. He knew Elrohir was coveted by many and that those he'd favored never forgot the bliss experienced in his arms. That Elrohir had easily found willing partners when he'd sought a way to find release without turning to Legolas was further evidence of his inimitable allure.

They were a study in contrasts, Elrohir and himself.

The Rivendell Elf's hair was blue-black as the deepest night and his thickly lashed eyes grey as the twilight of early evening. He was tall and lean though not as deceptively slim as the prince; traces of his _Edain_ ancestry lingered in his broader shoulders, his less slender limbs. Yet he always moved with the fluid grace, feline surefootedness and feather-light silence of a pureblooded Elf, his powerful muscles rippling with ease whether he wielded sword, bow or dagger.

Elrohir always gave an impression of sartorial elegance whether dressed in the simple clothing of a Mirkwood ranger or arrayed in formal garb as he was tonight. Like the prince he wore a circlet upon his head, also of silver but stark in its relative lack of adornment. Going with the rich colors favored in Rivendell, he had donned a velvety robe in deepest burgundy edged with bronze and a soft under-tunic of a particularly scrumptious shade of cream. His long legs were encased in hose the color of deep wood and his feet were shod in bark brown shoes.

There was no mistaking that here was a scion of the line of Luthien, daughter of Thingol, Lord of Doriath, and Melian the Maiar on the one side and on the other, Idril, daughter of Turgon of ancient Gondolin, and her husband, Tuor, an _Adan_ so fair of face he could have passed for one of the Eldar.

There is as much beauty in him as there is said to be in me, Legolas mused. Would it be so difficult to submit to him? Surely, with one so fair and noble, intimacy would not be too strange or unpleasant. He was also remarkably skillful besides. The Mirkwood prince knew all too well of his friend's reputation on yet another battlefield where he wielded weapons of a different kind with as equal ability as he did those of more martial design.

Legolas set aside such considerations. In the end it did not matter. He had to make the attempt come what may. But he needed courage to do it. In Elrohir's answers to his questions he hoped to find it.

"If you were to have what you want do you think your desire would pass?" he asked as he had earlier asked his father.

Elrohir, startled, stared at him. "I have not thought of it," he slowly replied. He let out his breath. "This madness has probably grown because I cannot quench it. If I did, then aye, mayhap it would pass. But I cannot say for certain." He averted his eyes once more. "Why do you ask?"

Legolas sensed the other Elf's apprehension. In the way of Elves, he answered with another question. "Why me?" he queried. "What turned you to me?"

The query drew back Elrohir's attention. He gazed at Legolas for a while before answering. "My foremother Lúthien is accounted the fairest of all the Children of Ilúvatar that was or ever shall be," he murmured. "It is said that there will never be her like again. I do not agree. There is one who could rival Lúthien in beauty, grace and purity of heart."

"Arwen," Legolas smiled fondly though he was puzzled as to what Elrohir was leading up to. "Not for nothing have your people named her their Evenstar."

Elrohir's own smile was tinged with both affection and sadness. "I am only her brother and cannot see her thus. Nay, 'tis an _ellon_ I speak of, a male Elf. And do not tell me that that invalidates the comparison in any way," he added when Legolas looked surprised. He paused and drew a steadying breath.

"_Elyë nar ve vanima tambë i-ára, maltaharyon_"—Thou art as beautiful as the dawn, golden prince—he softly stated. "The closest thing to perfection that I have ever known."

For a few seconds, Legolas found himself at a loss for words. Elrohir had spoken in Quenya, the melodic Ancient Speech, a language of lore chiefly preserved in Middle-earth by Elves of Noldorin descent and the Dúnedain; a tongue no longer uttered in public as a rule. Its use imparted great reverence and deep affection for the recipient. It added greater depth and meaning to the praise the twin bestowed upon the archer. "I did not know you regarded me thus," he finally said.

"I did not realize it either," Elrohir replied. "I thought I was merely enamored of your comeliness. Though through the years I have come to know you well and what I know I find admirable and worth loving and nurturing. I never meant to want more than that."

"Why did things change?"

"Sirgon happened."

Legolas' eyes widened slightly. "What did Sirgon have to do with your feelings?"

"When I saw you kiss him, when you allowed him to caress you, I saw you in another light. I realized that I was jealous. You cannot imagine how frightened I was by the feeling. I should not have felt that way." Elrohir looked away, his own cheeks coloring. "I suddenly wondered what it would be like to be intimate with you, to know you as no other _ellon_ has or ever will."

He glanced back and took note of the fair-haired archer's expression of incredulity. "Did I not call it madness?" he said softly. His next words dripped with irony. "Amusing, is it not, that I who have made a name as a breaker of hearts should now be the one to know desire unrequited. Is it not the greatest jest that having so extolled the delights of woman-flesh I should now obsess over an Elf-male instead and he my own best friend at that?"

"You have no notion of what it is like to couple with others for no other reason than because they somewhat resemble the one you desire. To not even feel lust but only desperation? It was degrading for both them and me. Yet that is what I was driven to do. But the more I used others to try and quell my need, the more I felt the difference between them and you." Elrohir chuckled bitterly. "It was like trying to quench my thirst with mere ale when what I wanted was vintage wine. Perhaps 'tis the Valar's way of chastising me for my past sins."

He looked at Legolas; saw how disturbed the prince was by his frank narrative. He drew a weary breath and turned his eyes once more to the shadowed woods. "I am sorry to have disturbed you so, _gwador_."—sworn brother. "But you need worry no longer about this lunacy of mine. I will depart for Imladris tomorrow and trouble you no more."

"That I cannot allow," Legolas quietly replied. "I told you I would not lose you. I was not jesting."

"Legolas—"

"I will give you what you desire, Elrohir."

Elrohir turned his head with a jerk and stared at him in astonishment. "What?" he gasped. "Are you insane?" When Legolas simply shook his head, he paled. "I do not wish for you to make this sacrifice."

"You make it sound as if it would be a hardship for me."

"It _is_ a hardship if 'tis not your desire."

"Then 'tis your responsibility to ensure that I do _not_ find it a hardship," the prince retorted. "You and Elladan have always said 'tis in our nature to respond to the touch of both _ellon_ and _elleth_. Why shouldn't I experience pleasure in your arms? Skillful ones at that from what I have heard of your exploits."

His words left Elrohir speechless. It took him several seconds to form a response of some sort. "Why would you do this?" he asked. "Pity? I will not accept pity from you."

"Nor would I give it. I would never insult you so." Legolas leaned forward and cupped Elrohir's chin with his hand. "I do this because you are dear to me and I refuse to lose you.

He rose to his feet but retained his gaze on the other Elf. "Think about it," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "When you have made your decision, come to me. I will be in my bedchamber."

He silently walked away. Elrohir stared at his retreating figure. He did not know what to think or do. And he was seriously torn between a need to weep and the urge to go into hysterics. He realized his hands were shaking visibly and he quickly clenched them. As lucidity returned, he considered the consequences of consummating his desire.

_He offers it now. But when it comes to the actual act, he will not be able to do it. Where will that leave me? Caught between fulfillment and frustration. Can I endure that_?

He bent his head and covered his face with his hands. _Sweet Eru, what should I do?_

Glossary:  
Edain (sing. Adan) – Men of the Three Houses of Elf-friends in the First Age  
elleth - Elf-maid

_To be continued_…

_Kirsten Inwe:_ Thank you. I emailed my reply to you. I hope you received it.  
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_hobbitkiwi:_ Thank you very much. It's lovely to know you're enjoying this series and that you like the way I write the characters.  
_Sam:_ Thank you. I try to update every other day at least.


	34. Melethron: The Ancient Path 6 Yielding

**AN:** I toned down this chapter to conform to FFnet's restrictions with regard to adult-rated material. If you are of age and desire to read it as it was originally written, you may email me for its URL on another site.

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI: Yielding  
Legolas turned his head, his ears picking up the soft rustling sound. A figure stood in the shadows of his balcony, half hidden by the draperies. It was Elrohir.

He had doffed his robe before climbing the tree outside the window of his own chamber and using it to traverse the short distance to Legolas' balcony. Sans the heavier outer garment his lean yet finely muscled form became more distinct.

Elrohir stepped forward then paused as he caught full sight of the prince. Legolas had risen to sit upon his bed, his long legs stretched out before him. He was clad in naught but his under-tunic and hose. His hair, silvery in the moonlight, was unbraided and hung down his back like a silken curtain. He looked young and pure and almost unreal.

Chiding himself for being so easily perturbed by his friend's appearance, he approached the bed and sat down on its edge.

"You could have used the door," Legolas said, a smile in his voice.

"I thought it would be more discreet this way," Elrohir replied. "I do not wish to needlessly discomfit you." After a moment, he murmured: "I do not know if I should have come. I do not wish to force this on you."

"I am not forced," Legolas said. "I do this of my own free will."

"So you say." Moving closer to Legolas, Elrohir took a deep breath and turned slightly to face the prince. He had already decided on a course of action that would tell him whether to proceed or not. If he sensed that Legolas could not continue, he would stop and leave.

After some hesitation, he silently raised his hand and gently tucked a strand of silver gold behind the other's ear. In doing so, he allowed his fingers to run through the soft locks. His eyes did not leave the prince's face.

_You flinched when Oreth did this to you_.

Legolas heard the thought, wondered if Elrohir intended to communicate entirely through their minds. That was not surprising. The Eldar more than the other elven races practiced the art assiduously. Though he was not as adept at it as his friend, he responded in kind.

_Oreth's need was base_.

_And mine is not?_

_Nay. I know the difference_.

Elrohir nodded slightly. Gently, he brushed the shining hair from the prince's shoulder revealing the side of his neck. Slowly, taking care not to seem threatening, he leaned forward.

Legolas tried to remain calm as Elrohir pressed a kiss to his neck. Nevertheless, he was startled by the feel of it. It was different from the womanly caresses with which he was familiar. He could not explain what made it so; it simply was. He trembled a little as the Elf-lord's lips trailed upwards to just below his ear then lower to the crook of his neck. To his surprise, it did not feel unpleasant. Indeed, it raised prickles of pleasurable sensation that made his pulse quicken slightly.

He became sharply aware of Elrohir's scent, so different from that of a Silvan Elf. It evoked the sparkling waters of the Bruinen, crisp, clean air beneath open skies, warm sunlight on peaceful meadows and the heather and pine upon the slopes of the valley where Rivendell lay hidden. He'd always deemed it inordinately pleasing. Now he found it enticing as well.

Elrohir drew back and again their eyes met. Legolas could not quite repress a shiver. He clearly read in the twilight pools desire barely restrained, passion just waiting to be unleashed. He drew in a shaky breath as Elrohir started to undo his tunic.

With slow, deliberate movements, the warrior unlooped the lacings on the silvery garment, never looking at what he was doing, always watching the archer's face. With sudden insight, Legolas realized that he was replicating what Oreth had done in his attempt to seduce the prince. Following on the heels of that thought was the realization that Elrohir was waiting to see if he would resist further intimacy.

Elrohir did wonder that Legolas did not recoil. He began to dare hope. Even now he felt his restraint beginning to crumble. It did not help that he was so close to the prince that he could feel the warmth of his skin, hear the soft intake of breath as he undid the last loop.

Legolas became aware of Elrohir's hands spreading his tunic open. He lowered his eyes, his face flushing. How odd that after a lifetime of closeness he should now feel shy. Throughout the centuries of their acquaintance they had seen each other in various states of undress, even total starkness on occasion; why should it bother him now?

It came to him then that he was not baring himself before a friend but a lover. A male lover. That was reason enough to make him distinctly uncomfortable.

_Can I do this?_

He had not meant for this thought to reach Elrohir and so was startled when he received a reply.

_Do not force yourself. I will leave_.

He glanced up again and looked at his friend. Elrohir had pulled back his hands; his face was impassive. But he did not guard his eyes quickly enough, could not hide the disappointment and the hurt of rejection. The effort to clamp down on the desire, to bank the fires of passion was all too visible in those pools of twilight. Lest Legolas read more in them, Elrohir averted his eyes. He began to rise but Legolas grasped his wrist. He looked back warily.

Legolas stared at the lean wrist he held and marked its barely tamed power. Whatever he chose to do now, it would be irrevocable. I made this offer, he reminded himself. It was my choice.

"_Dartho_," Legolas whispered. Stay.

It was enough and too much.

Restraint snapped, resolve broke. Elrohir leaned forward and captured his lips. The prince forced his mind to go blank. Better not to think, just feel. But he was not prepared for the deeper kiss that Elrohir drew him into and could not quite suppress a gasp of apprehension. It was different even from the kiss in the woods. That had been so brief that he'd hardly had time to register it beyond its bruising force. But this!

He became acutely aware that there was a world of difference between the kiss of an Elf-maid and of a male Elf. Not so much the feel or taste of it – for Elrohir's lips were soft and warm and amazingly sweet – but the power, however restrained, behind it.

Feeling Elrohir's hands on his arms, holding them with startling strength, he reflexively gripped Elrohir's arms in turn in a defensive gesture. The motion only brought the warrior's might into sharper relief for he could feel the ripple of muscles beneath the fine fabric of his sleeves. So disturbed was he that he drew in a shuddering breath when Elrohir finally broke the kiss. But then he was eased down upon the bed and he found himself fighting to still his suddenly racing heart.

For the longest moment he panicked for the feeling of power and hardness upon him was wholly unfamiliar, as were the hands that held him down – the hands of a peerless warrior.

Elrohir's lips were upon his neck and throat, edacious and seeking. Legolas felt his breath coming in short spurts. Try as he might he could not stay his alarm and it took all the discipline he could muster not to recoil from his imminent submission. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, tried to think past his fear. His grip upon Elrohir's arms tightened though he strove not to actively resist.

Elrohir sensed his friend's discomfort, felt the trembling of his body, was aware that Legolas was finding it difficult to shift from a more familiar mode of intimacy to one he had no experience of. He also knew that all the skill he possessed would be of no avail if his friend failed to subdue his fear of this manner of coupling. But he could no longer rein in his passion. Things had gone too far.

The mere sight of Legolas with his shining hair spread on the pillows and fair skin flushing was simply too much for him to resist. Even the prince's scent was intoxicating. Of tree and leaf and flowers on the forest floor did he think and hidden streams, wild berries and herb scented breezes. With fingers that slightly shook, he tenderly brushed stray strands of silver gold from the prince's cheek.

It is beyond my strength to stop now. Forgive me, my Greenleaf, his thoughts reached out entreatingly.

Legolas felt the racing of his heart slow down. His eyes opened and he stared at the Elf above him. In his fear he had forgotten. This was Elrohir and the Elf-knight loved him. He would do nothing that would hurt him. He peered at the countenance above him and centered all his thoughts and feelings on its breathtaking comeliness. His fears started to diminish, his resistance faded.

"_Elyë nar ve vanima tambë i-undomë, Eldaroquen_," he murmured. Thou art as beautiful as the twilight, Elf-knight.

Elrohir's eyes widened both at the return of his earlier praise of the prince's beauty and the similar intent behind his use of the High Speech. The argent pools glittered with appreciation.

The archer relaxed beneath him, his grip loosened and his arms slowly slid around him, not to oppose but to reassure and convey his willingness to continue.

There is nothing to forgive, Legolas assured him silently.

Elrohir's lips closed upon his once more, kissing him so tenderly, so sweetly, it all but took his breath away. He opened himself to the experience, allowing pure sensation to wash over him.

Once past the initial shock, Legolas found Elrohir's kisses and the touch of his knowing hands more potent than he'd ever expected or imagined. He could not suppress the tremors that passed through his body or the soft moans that escaped his lips. The countless tales of Elrohir's skills as a lover did not do him justice if he could arouse so many turbulent feelings in Legolas this easily.

He managed to hold himself steady while Elrohir slowly undressed him though he shivered at the covetous gleam in the twin's eyes when they beheld his bared body. Appreciative, too, and greatly so, particularly when the silvery pools alighted on the vicinity of his groin. He could not help blushing then. He was quite used to that gleam in Elf-women's eyes. And lately he had come to recognize it in the furtive gazes of the few males bold enough to flout the inexorably though slowly waning Mirkwood prejudice against such passions. But never had he reacted as he now did to Elrohir's desirous regard. He wondered if it was because the Elf-knight was his dear friend or due to something far more complex than he was ready to unravel at the moment.

The warrior shed his own clothing and Legolas caught himself keenly admiring the flawless symmetry of his friend's form. Elrohir was more than beautiful by any standard; he was magnificent. He also found himself staring in fearful fascination at the Elf-knight's undeniably formidable endowment. It was the first time he'd ever seen Elrohir naked while the latter was in a state of arousal.

Confusion clouded his mind at his unaccountable attraction to his friend's body. It was an unfamiliar feeling. He had experienced physical attraction to other males before but had been taught to consider such feelings as admiration for beauty or appreciation of worth. Not that the feelings had ever evolved into anything recognizedly carnal in nature, not even remotely. But this was different. The twin educed an acute visceral response that the archer had not previously known even with the most comely of other _ellyn_. Or _ellyth_ for that matter he realized with a jolt. He could not deny it; Elrohir had awakened something deep within him and even now that something was making him feel sensations and emotions he'd once considered next to impossible.

Elrohir saw the bewilderment in Legolas' eyes and comprehended the permutations that were taking place within his friend's heart and soul. Mindful of the other Elf's inexperience and innocence in being loved by a fellow male, he took his cues from the prince's reactions. Much as he ached to seek his own release, the need to pleasure the archer was paramount if the entire experience was to be as memorable as he intended it to be.

"Trust me, Legolas," he murmured as he slowly covered the prince's visibly trembling body with his own.

Legolas shivered as bared flesh touched bared flesh. He shakily whispered: "I trust you. Do as you will."

Elrohir silently took exception to his friend's words. This coupling would not be for his pleasure alone. He would ensure his Greenleaf knew complete satisfaction before the night was over. Any other outcome was unacceptable.

Gently, slowly, he trailed kisses over Legolas' face, up to the delicate tips of his ears, down his throat to the sensitive hollow at its base; smiled secretly as he felt his friend quiver in the first throes of burgeoning passion. He put the knowledge of secrets Legolas had confided to good use now. He knew what the prince enjoyed, the places that were responsive to pleasure. As he moved down the length of Legolas' frame, he listened keenly to the prince's responses, stayed alert to the changes in the latter's body. He clamped down firmly on the urge to ravage the lissome form beneath him.

Legolas bit his lip as yet another moan escaped him. He had not thought it possible for him to enjoy Elrohir's attentions but it was and he did. A part of him was dismayed that he could respond this way to his friend but another was filled with wonder and curiosity. Further musings were abruptly cut off when the Elvenlord shifted his position.

With a start, Legolas realized Elrohir's face now hovered directly over his groin, felt his heated breath upon his damp skin. He sucked in his breath in shock when the Elf-knight enveloped him in the moist warmth of his mouth.

"Elrohir!"

The twin glanced up at his gasped cry, his eyes lust-darkened. "Has no maid ever done this for you, _malthernil_?"—golden prince?—he asked huskily, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

"Nay," Legolas managed to reply. "At least, not _that_ way!"

The twilight eyes darkened even further. "It should not matter," Elrohir said, his smile rakish, "but it gladdens me that I am the first."

Legolas fell back with a stifled groan as Elrohir resumed his sensual task. The prince clawed at the bed sheet as he was repeatedly and skillfully brought to peaks of pleasure he'd never previously experienced. He could barely summon enough lucidity to wonder where the Elf-knight had learned his lessons and learned them oh so well.

His breath hitched however when he felt Elrohir cautiously probe him. It was not painful but dauntingly intrusive. Trembling, he drew unsteady breaths as tendrils of delicious sensation radiated from his lower body where Elrohir stroked him from within. Apprehension assailed him then.

He'd prepared many an anxious virgin _elleth_ for the sensation of defloration but he'd never expected it to be done for him. It was ironic, really, considering that it was Elrohir who had taught him all those centuries ago to always handle inexperienced partners with extra care. Not even in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined his friend would one day perform the same service for him. But then again, who would have thought Elrohir would also be his bed-teacher in this?

But soon it became impossible to think of anything at all beyond the pleasure the younger twin was wreaking upon him. It distracted him quite effectively from thinking about Elrohir's intent; only sensation registered. He could do nothing other than to obey the instinct to seek the sources of his rapture, forgot everything but the maddeningly enjoyable feelings that forced sounds from him he'd never heard before.

Release came in a tumultuous wave, overwhelming him in its fury, leaving him gasping for breath in its wake. He lay back limply, breathing unevenly, utterly drained.

The bed shifted beneath him as the darkling Elf altered his position. Opening his eyes, he saw Elrohir looking down at him, his dusky eyes blacker than he'd ever seen them before. "I've wanted this for so long," the warrior murmured. "I am glad you enjoyed it."

"I... I did not know such pleasure existed," the prince admitted, blushing at his friend's admission. "What you just did is... is amazing."

A low chuckle was his reply and a thrill snaked its way through his nerves at the sound of it.

"Thank you, Calenlass, but 'tis only the beginning," Elrohir murmured.

Legolas' eyes widened at the thought of more to come. He wondered if he could survive another round of such intense pleasuring. Elrohir smiled at his reaction then leaned down and kissed him; the prince tasted himself on the other's lips. Fascination supplanted some of his anxiety and he wondered what would follow.

Elrohir began to caress him in unison with his own need, inexorably bringing Legolas to renewed arousal. Once more his breath quickened with the pleasure; he was as much undone by the sheer intimacy of the act as by the sensations wrought by it. He closed his eyes trying to cling to whatever strands of sentience he still possessed. He felt the brush of purposeful fingers and opened his eyes in time to see Elrohir anoint himself with their mingled seed and realized that it was what his friend had used to ease his fingers' passage earlier.

He tensed as his hips were raised, his legs gently lifted. A pillow was slipped beneath his slightly upraised back. He could not quite stifle a shuddery breath as he realized what that portended. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. Not to mention confused.

Only once had he ever witnessed a joining between two males when he had stumbled upon the Imladrin warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, coupling in a concealed glen in the hills around Rivendell. He had vivid memories of Enedrion on his hands and knees and Daurin taking him from behind. That was how he'd expected Elrohir to take him as well. But looking up at the Elf-knight, seeing the grey eyes gleaming with mingled lust and concern, he realized he preferred to face his friend. He could seek courage in his reassuring gaze, knew that if he experienced any distress, Elrohir would see it at once and assuage it or, conversely, heighten his pleasure as soon as he felt it. And he knew then that Elrohir had anticipated all of these things and intended to make his first yielding an exceptional and joyful one.

"I do not wish to hurt you," Elrohir said softly, seeing his friend's anxiety. "Try to relax, Legolas. It will be easier for you if you do not resist me."

Legolas softly breathed, "I know," and willed himself to calm down.

But he could not stifle a strangled cry when Elrohir took him. He trembled in shock at the sensation of being invaded then completely filled. Not quite painful as he had expected save for a slight burning sensation that swiftly subsided. But it was unfamiliar, not something he'd ever expected to happen to him. Alien.

_And yet not_. Astoundingly, his body accepted the intrusion as naturally as any female's would though it experienced the normal discomfort that came with being untried. This discovery following on the heels of his body's enthusiastic approval of Elrohir's earlier attentions brought home to him even more clearly how right the twins had been in their discourse on elven duality. They _were_ made for either kind of coupling. The duality was in him though he'd been conditioned from birth to suppress it all unknowingly.

The thoughts swirled around in his mind with lightning swiftness while his body adjusted to the novel sensation. He gazed at Elrohir with wide-eyed wonder. It was the signal Elrohir awaited and he began to move. The prince hissed at the burst of pleasure the motion fetched him. Guttural groans slipped past his lips as he tried to corral his wits and retain some semblance of control.

"Enjoy it, Greenleaf," the Elf-knight's dulcet voice breached his rapture-fogged mind. "Do not fight it."

Elrohir's eyes never left his face, the dark pools all aglow with hungry elation. Legolas' already erratic breathing turned into sobbing pants as the sensations heightened until he was writhing with need, moaning incoherently. He reached out blindly, grasping desperately at the twin's thighs.

"Elrohir, please," he heard himself begging. " I cannot... ai, you will drive me mad!"

Spiralling pleasure drove him over the edge, shattering whatever control he might still have possessed and he came completely undone. In that bliss-drenched instant, he tightly sobbed the twin's name. The sound of his name intonated in just that way crushed Elrohir's heretofore rigid hold on himself and he joined the archer in the rapturous storm of their joining. Legolas felt a thrill race through his very veins as he heard his name uttered with profound, rough-voiced felicity. He trembled in the wake of his second release. Somehow, Elrohir had done the unthinkable.

He had never come to completion twice in succession in so short a span of time, he dazedly admitted to himself. And both times with such torturous, explosive joy.

Elrohir thoughtfully removed the pillow from under him before gently withdrawing; so gently, Legolas hardly winced. The Elf-knight planted a last lingering kiss upon his lips and he sighed at the tenderness of it. Legolas opened his eyes and watched Elrohir draw the covers up over their bodies before lying down close beside him. He lay quietly for a moment, sorting out his thoughts and feelings, waiting for his body to calm down. Elrohir slipped a protective arm around him. He turned his head and gazed at the warrior.

Elrohir was on his side, his cheeks rosy from his own release. He was looking at him intently. "Did I hurt you?" the twin asked in a hushed voice.

Legolas shook his head. "Not at all," he whispered.

"That is good." Elrohir wondered at the way the prince regarded him. He began to feel concern about what had just passed between them. Was his friend now regretting his choice? "Legolas, I—"

The prince placed his fingers against his lips and said with a small smile. "Sleep, _mellonen_."—my friend. "I think we both need the rest," he murmured.

Elrohir hesitated then nodded and relaxed into the pillow. His concerns could be left until the morrow. For now, Legolas was right. They both needed to rest.

Glossary:  
ellyn – male Elves  
ellyth – Elf-maids  
defloration – the ending of a female's virginity (_literary_)

_To be continued_…


	35. Melethron: The Ancient Path 7 Denouement

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII: Denouement  
The sun was just beginning to peek through the clouds when Legolas slipped out of bed and slowly dressed, a mild ache in the lower regions of his body calling to mind what he had undergone just hours earlier. As he drew on his clothes he glanced at the recumbent form that had lain beside him. He shivered at the memory of what had occurred between them the night before. I have never been more afraid in my life, he realized. He did not know how he had borne the height of their coupling. To surrender control and accept conquest. _To be the sheath to the sword._

He paused, caught between a shiver and a sigh. Truth be told, he was not certain whether the turmoil he felt was born of what he had endured – or of what he had enjoyed. Was it just Elrohir's considerable skill or did I learn something about myself this past night? he wondered.

He looked upon his sleeping friend once more. Not just my friend any longer, he realized with mixed emotions. _Melethron nîn_. My lover.

Elrohir's handsome face was peaceful, the lines of his body more relaxed than they had been the past several days. The prince reached out and brushed strands of dark silk from the darkling Elf's cheek. He regarded the beauty of the other's features as he had the evening before. On that I anchored my determination, he mused gravely. But something more helped me to continue and I cannot tell if it was solely for our friendship's sake. Not yet.

oOoOoOo

Elrohir slowly awakened, his mind gradually emerging from the elven dreamscape. For a moment he was content to lie still and remember. _Elbereth, that was such a strange dream_.

He eased himself up on one arm and drowsily looked about. And then his mind snapped to awareness. He was not in his room. He recognized the fixtures, the furniture and the walls. He was in Legolas' bedchamber lying in Legolas' bed.

He drew his breath in sharply. Had last night really happened? Or had he been so in need that he had at last failed to distinguish between his waking dreams and reality? But there was no getting around the fact that he had awakened in the bed of his friend. He shook his head in confusion. Ridiculous to think that he had sleepwalked his way there. And anyway Elves might walk while in the midst of their dreams but they certainly did not walk in their sleep.

Bemused, he sat up and tried to clear the remaining cobwebs from his mind. He had not slept so soundly in what felt like ages. That in itself told him that something had happened. His body, too, felt different. He was sated. It must have happened. He felt a sense of release that had been absent for so many years. It _had_ happened. He did not know whether to be joyful or worried. For one thought came to him on the heels of his discovery. Where was Legolas?

He turned toward the sunlight pouring through the balcony door. The draperies had been drawn back. It was then that he saw him.

He was seated on the balustrade, staring at the forest beyond. Clad only in tunic, hose and light shoes, his hair still flowing free, he looked serene and innocent. Elrohir, reluctant to disturb him, silently rose from the bed and dressed. When he was done he went to join the prince. He was about to step onto the balcony when Legolas turned his head and looked upon him with curiously veiled eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" he quietly asked.

Elrohir found himself unable to fully face his friend and look into his eyes. Truth be told, he was afraid of what he might see in those cerulean windows once Legolas chose to unveil his feelings. He did not move from his place.

"Very well," he murmured. "'Tis the first good night's sleep I have had in many a year."

"That is good to hear."

For a moment, silence reigned. Elrohir gazed at the figure before him. Images of the night before lingered in his mind and he found it hard to reconcile the acquiescent Elf who had yielded to his passion with the enigmatic prince who now surveyed the woods in silence. He wondered if the experience had left an unpleasant mark on his friend and if that would now mar their relationship permanently.

"Do you regret what you did?" he softly inquired.

Legolas turned to face him. Elrohir was struck once more by the crystal clarity of the archer's eyes.

"I do not regret anything," he replied. "As long as you are happy." After a pause, he added, "Are you?"

"More than you can possibly imagine," Elrohir breathed.

A slight frown marred the prince's brow. "You do not look very happy," he said. "What troubles you?"

Elrohir sighed. "I fear that in accepting your offer I have hurt you in turn, _ernilen_."—my prince. At the other's expression of puzzlement, he explained, "I felt your distress last night. You could not hide your fear. You must have suffered."

"Nay, _meldiren_, I did not, you made certain of that." The corners of his fine lips turned slightly upwards.

Elrohir, aware that he was being teased, felt his face color. "I am glad you did not find it too unpleasant," he managed to say.

"You also seem given to understatement this morning," Legolas added, the teasing in his tone becoming more evident.

Elrohir blushed in full but he refused to let himself be distracted from what he needed to say. "It would not have been right if only I experienced any pleasure," he murmured. "But even the reward of pleasure cannot change the fact that this was not of your wanting. I know how hard it must have been for you to do something you never desired." He swallowed hard. "I should have stopped," he whispered. "I should not have let you make such a sacrifice."

When Legolas would have spoken he swiftly raised a hand to forestall him. "I know how you felt. I was frightened, too, the first time I lay with another _ellon_. But at least I truly wanted the experience. But you... you had nothing to help you endure it." He lowered his eyes before Legolas should see his self-recrimination. "I have sated my desire but I am not sure it was worth the price you paid."

Legolas gazed at his friend. _I should not have left his side while he was still asleep. Not this first time. He thinks me distant and full of regret._

"Come here," he said softly.

The twin hesitated at first then did as he was bid. Without warning, Legolas grasped him by his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him full on the mouth. Elrohir's gasped at the unexpected gesture. Legolas drew back and cupped the other Elf's face. Blue eyes held grey.

"You are wrong, it was worth the price," he quietly said. "And I did have something. I had your love and the love I have always borne you. That was more than enough to see me through. And, as you put it..." Dropping his hands, he drew back and Elrohir saw that he was smiling and that his smile reached his eyes. "It was not unpleasant. Not in the least."

Holding the smile, Legolas patted the balustrade behind him. After the space of a moment, Elrohir accepted the invitation. Legolas leaned back against him and he curled a supporting arm around his friend's shoulders.

Elrohir pressed his lips against the fair locks. He felt Legolas' hand on his arm, warm and reassuring. His fears dwindled.

_Hannon le_. Thank you.

Glossary:  
meldiren - my friend  
ellon - male Elf

_To be continued_…


	36. Melethron: The Ancient Path 8 Resolution

_**Melethron: The Ancient Path**_  
_by Eressë_

Epilogue: Resolution  
The twins extended their stay by another week. Having finally attained what he had so long desired, Elrohir was reluctant to forego it so soon. Sympathizing with his brother, relieved and pleased that his twin was happy, Elladan did not insist on leaving as originally planned. Instead, he good-naturedly endured the other's predictable tendency to gravitate toward Legolas and eased his occasional exasperation by indulging in a prank or two for old times' sake. That he managed to lure Legolas' brother, Brethildor, and friends, Mithrael and Heledir, into joining him did nothing for Thranduil's peace of mind, of course, but after the tension of the preceding days, the Elvenking proved to be of a more benevolent disposition. However, even the most idyllic holidays must come to an end and the twin lords made ready to depart.

Legolas saw them to the great stone doors of Thranduil's cavernous halls. _Edro_. At his silent command, the heavy doors swung open to reveal the wide bridge before the hill. There the Rivendell retainers and mounts already awaited their masters.

It was a sunny day and the clearing before the bridge was dappled with golden light. A fine day to start on one's way. With a slight motion of his head, Elladan gestured to the other Rivendell Elves to move away. It was time for farewells and he knew that his brother would want some privacy.

He turned to Legolas a little apologetically. "Forgive me for not trusting you, _gwador nîn_"—my sworn brother—he said. "I should have known that you would not forsake Elrohir."

"Do not apologize," Legolas replied. "Your fears were not totally unfounded."

Elladan nodded. He noticed Elrohir waiting impatiently for him to be done and was amused. "You have brought back the light in his eyes," he softly told the prince. "My thanks, Legolas. You are a true friend and brother."

They embraced before Elladan yielded his place to his twin. He tactfully led his mount a little distance away but not before slyly whispering to his brother a furtive, "Your turn." He grinned at the latter's quick blush.

Legolas smiled as Elrohir almost shyly faced him. "I do not know what to say," the dark-haired Elf admitted. "Save that I owe you so much."

Legolas shook his head. "You owe me nothing. You gave me as much as you took."

Elrohir looked at him in puzzlement. "Did I?" he said. "What in Arda could I have given you?"

"A new experience and an unforgettable one. All our years together, you have introduced me to so many."

Elrohir looked at him doubtfully. "You may yet regret this," he said, his countenance tensing slightly.

"So little faith in me, Elf-knight?" Legolas gently chided. Color stained Elrohir's cheeks anew. The prince quietly said: "Everything you have taught me I cherish, _gwador_. I will never regret this."

Elrohir gazed at him with something close to awe. "You are incredible," he softly said.

This time it was Legolas who blushed. After a moment, he looked at Elrohir thoughtfully. "Has the 'madness' passed?" he asked.

Elrohir considered the question. "In truth, I do not know," he said. "Perhaps time apart from you will tell me. I fear I will only know for certain when we meet again." He looked ruefully at his friend. "At least, now you need not trouble yourself with me any longer. That should make you glad."

Legolas placed his hands on Elrohir's shoulders and gripped them reassuringly. "Your departure does not gladden me," he told him. "I am ever bereaved when my closest friend must leave for I enjoy your companionship and thrive on the love you have always shown me." He withdrew his hands, his eyes sparkling merrily. Elrohir thought he had never seen eyes so blue. The archer cocked his head, a small smile on his lips. "And... if it has _not_ passed, I will be here for you as long as you need me."

Elrohir stared at him in astonishment. At that moment he realized anew the great treasure that was his friend. "'Tis no wonder that you are so dear to me, Calenlass. I never want to lose you be you lover, friend or brother," he told Legolas, his voice vibrant with affection and gratitude.

Legolas' smile widened and he drew Elrohir into a tight embrace. "Safe journey to you, _mellonen_"—my friend—he murmured. "Farewell."

He watched the brothers mount. As their steeds trotted across the bridge, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He knew without looking that it was his father.

Thranduil watched the twins depart. "Well, _ion nîn_?"—my son?—he asked. Three words but Legolas knew a multitude of questions rested in them.

"I am quite all right, _Ada_"—Papa—he said.

The twins and their retainers were at the mouth of the hidden path. Just before they entered, Elrohir looked back. Twilight eyes met azure ones across the clearing. The Elvenlord raised his hand in a final farewell. Legolas did the same. And then the company was gone.

Thranduil looked doubtfully at his son. "You do not seem to have suffered overmuch," he commented.

"Did you expect me to?"

Thranduil snorted elegantly at the oft-used ploy of countering one question with another. "It would almost seem that you enjoyed yourself," he said. "I will not deny that that unsettles me."

Legolas turned to face the king. "I was unsettled, too, the first night we spent together—" Legolas began.

Thranduil interrupted with some incredulity. "The _first_ night?" he repeated.

Legolas gave his father a pointed look. "Healing does not always come in an instance, my lord," he said.

Thranduil frowned. "Legolas, did you not feel any aversion at all? Were you never troubled?" He regarded his youngest son.

Legolas understood how his father felt. "Of course I was troubled," he admitted. "'Twas not my inclination. Even now I wonder that I was able to endure it." He stopped and corrected himself. "Nay, that is not right. Elrohir did not only take pleasure. He gave it as well and in great measure. I confess I have never known the like in all my years," he murmured almost to himself but the older Elf heard nonetheless. He saw his father tense, sensed the discomfort of the Elvenking. But he had never been less than honest with his sire and he would not start now.

"I learned something about myself. Elrohir showed me what we have tried to subdue all these ages. I can no longer regard it as unnatural when I have experienced for myself that it is as much a part of me as breathing. Indeed, what Elladan thought troubling was not Elrohir's desire but that I of all people should be the object of it."

He paused a moment, giving his sire time to come to grips with his revelations. Legolas added: "Though 'tis not a thing I would actively seek; I am not wholly at ease with it. Not yet." He had to smile at Thranduil's obvious relief. "Still..." He looked at his father questioningly. "_Ada_? Would you disown me were I to leave the path you taught me to follow?"

Thranduil hesitated then shook his head slowly. "As you said, there are things that we have tried to subdue in our nature. I have long anticipated that our alliance with Imladris would lead to a resurgence of the old ways in this realm. I just never expected that you would walk the ancient path or that Elrohir would be the one to guide you down it. But even did it not exist, you are still my son. I would never cast you away no matter what you should choose to do."

Legolas smiled gently. "As I cannot turn from Elrohir whatever he may choose."

Thranduil sighed. "And what if his desire does not pass?" he queried.

"Then I will do this again for as long as he needs me. I love him and I intend to be there for him."

"And you would not be my Legolas if you did not feel that way about your friends," Thranduil murmured, much softened. He suddenly frowned and glanced in the direction of the hidden path. "Which reminds me, would you know if the _gwanûn_ had a quarrel with Oreth?"

"With Oreth, my lord?" Legolas repeated in surprise. "Why do you ask?"

"Oreth reported to me last night and I had Galion bring him wine. When the good captain drank it, his lips and teeth turned a very vivid green." Legolas choked on a gasp of laughter. "Galion says he saw the twins lingering around the kitchens near the cup into which he had just poured the wine. Unfortunately, he has no evidence whatsoever that it was they who tampered with it. Would you know if they were behind this deed?"

"Nay, I know nothing about it," Legolas chuckled. "But it does sound like something that they would do."

The King sighed. "And I thought they had finally outgrown their fondness for mischief. I should have known better." Thranduil shook his head in resignation. "Thank the Powers they are not _my_ sons. How Elrond and Celebrían manage to keep their sanity around them I would rather not know. I have enough to do keeping _you_ out of trouble." He regarded his now laughing son somewhat severely.

Legolas looked at his father, mischief dancing in his eyes. "You are receiving the delegate from Dale next month, are you not? I hear he is full of self-importance and can be quite long-winded in his speeches." He nearly laughed again as the King leveled a suspicious stare at him. "Perhaps we can invite the twins back for the occasion. They have an uncommon gift for making even the most tedious proceedings interesting."

The glower and grimace he received from his father was all that he could desire. He grinned as his less than amused sire strode back to his halls. _Valar, that felt good!_

Glossary:  
edro – open  
gwanûn – pair of twins

The End

**Part 10:** Aftermath – Leagues apart in their respective realms, Legolas and Elrohir ponder the strange turn their friendship has taken. Rating: T


	37. Aftermath

**Summary:** Leagues apart in their respective realms, Legolas and Elrohir ponder the strange turn their friendship has taken.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** To quote one of my favorite fan fiction authors, Gloromeien: "A love act does not automatically lead to real loving." Even the foresight of the Firstborn cannot tell what the future holds.

_**Aftermath**_  
_by Eressë_

Imladris, _Yavannië_ T.A. 1628  
Arwen frowned as she watched Elrohir make his way to the tributary stream by the house. Her brother had not been quite himself since his and Elladan's return from Mirkwood. It wasn't that he was inexplicably happy or given to bouts of unexplained pique. It was just that he seemed preoccupied a lot of the time, oftentimes oblivious of what was going on around him.

Evidence of this was his failure earlier in the day to react when their father's rather pompous counsellor, Merenwë, made a demeaning remark about Mirkwood's lack of the finer luxuries one took for granted in Rivendell and the even more outrageous suggestion that rustic Wood-elves could not be expected to appreciate them anyway.

Elrohir should have been the first to level a scathing reprimand at the advisor for he had no patience whatsoever with foolish or unwarranted utterances. To their surprise, it was Elladan who took up the cudgels for the Woodland Realm, dispensing with diplomacy in defense of their Silvan allies. A few minutes later, Elrohir had been roused from his thoughts by the indignant voice of his brother. Belatedly discovering the cause of Elladan's ire, he'd wasted no time reducing Merenwë to pleading for their pardon and compelling the counsellor to swallow his ill-conceived opinions.

But that does not change the fact that he was so deep in thought, he didn't hear Merenwë's charge the first time around, Arwen mused. And he has been evading my questions on the matter, she added to herself with frustration. For that matter, so has Elladan. What are they hiding?

From her vantage point on the front porch she curiously observed him a spell longer. Then, picking up her skirts, she made to go to the younger twin. A hand on her wrist detained her.

"Where are you headed with that fearsome expression on your face, _thel vell_?"—dear sister—Elladan grinned. "I do not envy the Elf who must deal with you in this mood."

Arwen smiled back and indicated their brother with a nod.

"I had hoped to speak with Elrohir," she said. "Methinks he is troubled by something."

"Troubled?'

"And it must have something to do with your last trip to Mirkwood though he has been making it impossible for me to find out just what," she said with a hint of exasperation. "As have you."

Elladan's good humor dissipated. "Why do you think that?"

Arwen noticed his changed demeanor and regarded him speculatively. "I have marked his behavior of late and know it for unusual," she commented. "He seems perpetually lost in thought. I have tried to discover why but both of you seem to have taken pains to avoid enlightening me."

Elladan trained his eyes on his twin. Elrohir had sank down beside the stream and was idly tossing pebbles into the swiftly running water.

"Aye, he is preoccupied," he admitted. At the lifting of two graceful eyebrows, he was perforce compelled to add: "And I know something of the reason for it."

Arwen's frown returned. "Am I right then? It has to do with your visit to Mirkwood?" she asked. "He has been acting like this since your return."

Elladan hesitated, then nodded. "But I am not at liberty to tell you the cause."

"Why? Do _Ada a_ _Nana_ know?"—Papa and Mama?—she demanded before he could respond to the first question. Again Elladan nodded. Arwen scowled. "Yet you would keep this from me?" She huffed in indignation. "I knew it. You have deliberately kept me in the dark. How could you? I thought there were no secrets amongst us!"

"'Twas not our intention to leave you out, Arwen. Elrohir simply did not wish to trouble you with his problem."

"Indeed. Well, if you think you can conceal this from me, you are both as addle-pated as Merenwë!"

"Arwen—"

She ignored him and headed purposely for Elrohir. With a resigned sigh, Elladan followed.

Elrohir noted her approach only at the last minute giving Arwen all the more reason to worry about him. Her brother was not one to be taken unawares least of all by a maiden.

Without preamble, she sat down beside him and said: "I refuse to be the only one in the family not to know what is happening to you, brother. Tell me now or I swear I will pry it out of you word by word!"

Elrohir stared at her, startled. He glanced up as Elladan joined them and took a seat by him.

"She is upset that _Ada_ and _Nana_ know and she does not," he explained. "Mayhap 'tis time you told her. Manwë knows she will get it out of us sooner or later."

Elrohir stared at him then considered his sister. Arwen had pursed her lips threateningly at his continued silence.

"What is it you wish to know?" he asked, stalling a little.

"You know very well what, Elrohir," she said bitingly. "You go to Mirkwood supposedly for a fortnight only, end up staying on two weeks longer than expected then return home with all the attentiveness of a want-wit! What happened? Did you quarrel with Legolas?"

"Nay, far from it." Elrohir hesitated but seeing the warning glint in her eyes, he quietly said: "We did not quarrel. We... became lovers."

For the space of several seconds, Arwen was rendered speechless. She stared at her brother as if he had grown two horns and a snout. And then, as what he said finally registered in full, she did the unexpected.

"But that's wonderful!" she cried. "I had despaired that you would ever make a move!"

It was the twins' turn to stare at her.

"You – you knew?" Elrohir gasped.

"How could I not know? Anyone who took the time to observe you would have known. You were so obvious in your regard for him, only a blind bat could not have seen it."

"Legolas did not," Elladan pointed out. "Nor did _Ada_ and _Nana_ at first."

Arwen shrugged. "Well, of course they didn't. The object of love seldom ever does. And parents are oft the last to know." She smiled once more. "I am so happy for you, Elrohir. When will I get to call Legolas _gwanur_?"

Alarm sprang into the twilight eyes.

"Slow down, _muinthel!_"—sister!—he exclaimed. "'Tis too soon to even think of that. No words of love were spoken, much less of binding to one another."

"Why not?" Arwen frowned anew, her elation dissipating. "Do you not love him?"

"In truth I do not know," Elrohir answered honestly.

"How can you not know?" Arwen queried in puzzlement.

Elrohir sighed. "I know I love him as a friend. Of that I have no doubts. And he is as dear to me as you and Elladan are. But I am not certain I love him as... as our parents love each other. Desire is not... is not the same as love, nor does it necessarily lead to love. I know I want him. But whether 'tis more than just my body's craving, I truly do not know... yet."

Elladan, himself wondering about his twin's deepest feelings, prodded: "And if it is? What then?"

Elrohir turned haunted eyes on him, making him wish he had not asked.

"Then I am doomed to heartbreak," he quietly said. "The Wood-elves of Mirkwood do not tread the ancient path."

"But Legolas yielded to you," Arwen protested. "He has already returned to the path."

"Only because he wished to save our friendship." Elrohir drew a pensive breath. "His reasoning accepts the old ways. His heart does not. 'Tis no simple matter to turn one's back on the beliefs of one's land. Even more so for a prince of the realm who must uphold the laws and traditions of his father's kingdom. I know not whether what I feel is true love; I know even less if Legolas can ever free his heart to love another _ellon_."—male Elf. He glanced from Arwen to Elladan. His eyes were resigned.

"Oh, Elrohir, I am so sorry," Arwen said unhappily. "I truly thought..." She gazed at him with sisterly concern. "But surely, when you come together again, you will know and he will realize..." She broke off when he somberly shook his head.

"I fear there will be no repeat of this blessing the Powers saw fit to bestow upon me," he softly declared. "No second chance at such felicity. What sweet memories I gathered will have to suffice."

Elladan sighed in frustration. "I pray that when you do know your heart's desire, 'twill be within your reach, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—he said. "I do not wish to see you suffer grievously."

Elrohir smiled faintly. "I am stronger than you give me credit for, brother," he said. "Do not worry overmuch on my account."

Arwen sniffed mournfully. "As though we can shut off our feelings so easily," she pointed out. "We will worry about you whether you will it or not. At least, let us be of comfort to you should you need it one day."

Elrohir considered her gravely. Then, wordlessly, he drew both his brother and sister into a three-way embrace. They held close to each other, letting their sibling bond wash away the melancholy of the moment.

"Thank you," the Elf-knight whispered at length.

oOoOoOo

Mirkwood, _Ivanneth_ T.A. 1628  
Legolas glowered at the Elf-men practicing their archery and wrestling skills in the drill yard by the barracks of Northern Mirkwood. He did not glare out of anger towards the blameless warriors but rather out of confusion with himself. Nonetheless, whatever his reason, his baleful gaze unnerved the hapless _ellyn_ who had no idea how they had managed to displease their youngest prince so deeply particularly since he did not direct his ire at the warrior maids.

Legolas sighed fretfully. He had been studying the male Elves for nearly an hour now. Studying not only their fighting forms but their countenances and bodies as well. Not a ripple of lean muscle, a sweep of slender limbs or a flash of long tresses bound by tiny braids had escaped his eyes. Comely features, lithesome figures, graceful, battle-honed reflexes – he observed them all with a curious ferocity. And still found something missing,

Why is it that I can feel nothing more for any of them? he fumed to himself, more out of bemusement and desperation than true ire. It was impossible that he was not drawn to one – not even one! – of these magnificent specimens of elven masculinity!

Oh yes, he felt that familiar twinge and recognized it for what it really was now. He knew that the feeling had little to do with admiration or hero worship of a fellow male as he'd been led to believe. He understood that it was the same twinge he felt when confronted with a particularly delectable example of feminine pulchritude; that this reaction to either male or female-kind was one and the same. Pure physical attraction.

That much he'd learned about his nature; of the nature of all his kindred that had been repressed and discouraged in his father's kingdom for centuries uncounted. Repressed but never stamped out for not even the Valar could take away that which had been bestowed upon the Firstborn by the One himself. Legolas accepted this though he remained uncomfortable with it, lately come as he was to enlightenment. But like a true warrior, he sought to come to terms with his ambivalence regarding this new awareness of his own duality. Which is why he was standing at the edge of the exercise yard fiercely watching every male within sight with a mounting sense of frustration and perturbation.

Why was it that he could only progress further in such feelings with the distaff side of Elfkind? Why did he not desire more intimacy with his own gender when the visceral attraction was clearly there? Baldly put, why did he not crave male-flesh as he did female? Except... He drew his breath in sharply.

There it was again. That odd sensation in the pit of his stomach that surged forth whenever he remembered. And remember he did in vivid detail, every last one of them. He flushed of a sudden. Elbereth! The mere memories were enough to set him blushing!

More unsettled than before he'd come to the yard, he decided to leave before his confusion got any worse. If anything, watching Mirkwood's male warriors had only served to muddle things further. It had only made the contrast between _him _and them starker than ever and in the process served to confound the prince even more painfully than before. Exhaling heavily, he spun on his heel and briskly strode away.

Nimeithel regarded his departure thoughtfully. She'd been watching her best friend, Lothrian, receive instructions in archery from the beauteous captain Tathariel. But her attention had been diverted by the noticeably increasing unease of the male warriors and, soon, by the cause of it.

What ails him? she wondered. He'd looked ready to gut every _ellon_ in the vicinity. She let her gaze skim over the soldiers and felt mingled pity and amusement. They were all, to an Elf, patently shaken and bewildered and all too relieved to be freed of the ominous regard of the prince.

I think I should have a talk with him, she decided. It will not do for him to subject them to such treatment and demoralize _Ada's_ entire army in the process!

She came to his rooms in the early evening, hoping to catch him alone. He had left his door ajar and she peeked in to see if he was within. After a quick sweep of the chamber, she spotted him sitting outside upon the balustrade of his balcony.

Legolas glanced up to catch his sister looking at him from door. He smiled and cocked his head to welcome her. Nimeithel joined him on his perch.

"You are curious about something, _thel neth_"—young sister—he said with a grin. "You can barely restrain your tongue."

She grinned back. "You know me too well," she conceded. "'Tis only that I have been watching you all day. You seem upset about something."

Legolas paused then shook his head. "Not so much upset as confused."

"By what?" When he did not reply at once, she ventured a guess. "Does it have anything to do with the way you regarded our warriors while they were training?" Legolas looked at her in surprise. "You were staring so balefully at them," Nimeithel pointed out. "I fear you unnerved them and made them think you angry with them."

Legolas blew his breath out. "I did not realize I looked so fearsome." He glanced at his sister and bit his lip. "They had naught to do with my confusion, though, in watching them, I have only increased it."

Nimeithel was more perplexed than ever. "Please, Legolas, you are confusing _me_. I want to help you if I can. Will you not tell me what this thing is that bothers you?"

The prince heaved a sigh. He took his sister's hand and clasped in tightly. "I pray this will not trouble you as well," he said. "Nimeithel, when the twins were here, I discovered something about Elrohir." He hesitated then soldiered on. "I learned that he had developed a... passion for me."

Nimeithel gaped at him. "Like the passion Sirgon felt for you?"

Legolas was startled in turn. "You knew about that?"

She shrugged. "'Twas not hard to see how he felt about you," she said. "After he died, I asked _Ada_ about it and he confirmed my suspicions."

Legolas nodded. "I suppose he felt safe in telling you since nothing came of it," he commented. "I did not return Sirgon's desire."

"But Elrohir?" Nimeithel asked. "What came of that? He did not seem despondent when he left Mirkwood."

"You do not seem overly surprised by this."

"I have wondered about his feelings for you these past three centuries. They seemed more profound than I thought usual for a friend yet he was never as apparent as Sirgon was. I suspected but I could not be certain. And I did not dare broach the idea to anyone on a mere suspicion." She gazed at her brother curiously. "You did not answer my question. Why was Elrohir not despondent?"

Legolas gripped her hand even more tightly. "If he was not, 'tis because I... I gave him his desire," he whispered.

Nimeithel's jaw dropped even lower. "You what?" she half exclaimed. "Do – do you mean you – you coupled with him?" Legolas nodded. "But – but when?"

"The week before they returned to Imladris."

Nimeithel wordlessly gazed at her brother for several moments. Finally, she stirred and asked, "Why? You have never sought intimacy with your kind, why did you give in to Elrohir?"

"Because our friendship would have ended had I not yielded. My very presence hurt him. He was going to ensure that we never met again." Legolas let go of her hand and folded his arms, trying to steady the sudden tremors therein. "I did not want to lose him. I could not."

Nimeithel's eyes softened. "You truly care for him," she mused. "But what is it that confuses you now?"

"'Tis the feelings I had when I yielded to him," Legolas admitted. "I enjoyed what he did to me. I did not think that possible."

"Why not?" Nimeithel remarked. At his startled reaction, she pressed on. "Oh, I know 'tis not something encouraged here but if such is part of our nature then why should you not have responded to Elrohir?"

"The twins had to explain that to me," Legolas said, taken aback by her knowledge. "How did you come to know of this when I did not?"

"_Nana_ told me of the ancient ways before she passed away," Nimeithel soberly told him. "Lothrian developed a desire for Tathariel, did you not notice?" Legolas shook his head mutely, jolted by the information. "She was distraught that she should feel thusly. We went to mother for advice and she explained to us that such feelings were native to all Elves and that 'tis only here in Mirkwood that these desires are discouraged." She pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Personally, I think it silly to forbid what is inherent in us. It cannot remain suppressed forever if the inclination is there and only causes so much pain for the ones who must conceal their feelings."

Legolas gazed at her with admiration and amazement. "My little sister," he murmured. "Since when did you become so wise?"

"I have always been wise," she retorted. "But you were too mule-headed to admit it." They shared a brief chuckle. Then she peered at him curiously. "Your response to Elrohir was not unnatural, _tôr iuar_"—older brother—she reasoned. "It should not bother you that you appreciated the attentions of another _ellon_."

Legolas shook his head ruefully. "That is not what bothers me alone. If I regarded the warriors so ruthlessly this morning 'twas because I wanted to know if I could feel with anyone else what I felt with Elrohir. But I could not. Not even with the most attractive of the lot."

"And what did you feel with him?"

"A rightness," Legolas confessed. "A harmony I had thought possible only between a man and a woman."

Nimeithel's eyebrows arched up in fascination. "Rightness? Harmony? You felt this with Elrohir?"

"Aye." He sighed. "At first I thought that I could feel nothing with the others because they could not compare to him in beauty and stature. 'Tis what helped me endure our coupling, what allowed me to enjoy it."

"But…?"

He smiled wanly at her prodding. "But then I considered that Elladan is as beautiful as his brother. If that was all that mattered, if it was only Elrohir's comeliness that drew me, then I should feel that same rightness with Elladan as well."

"And you do not?"

"That is what confuses me. Why do I feel as I do with Elrohir and not with any other Elf?"

"Do-do you love him?" Nimeithel queried. "I mean, not as a friend but as a _melethron_."—lover.

He shook his head. "What I did, I did for the sake of our friendship, nothing more. Besides, I am not ready to fall in love just yet. I have no wish to get entangled in all the problems and heartbreak that seem to accompany it."

"So you claim," she replied. "But you cannot stop your heart once it recognizes its desire."

Legolas hesitated then said: "No matter the duality of our nature or my response to Elrohir, neither changes the fact that we were not raised to desire our own kind. I cannot conceive of mating with any other than an Elf-maid." At her skeptical expression, he challenged: "Would you consider it for yourself?"

Nimeithel pondered the question. Finally she said: "I have not felt such stirrings nor has any _elleth_ yet approached me thus even in secret. But were such to happen to me, I would open my heart and mind to it. I would embrace the truth, not deny it."

He gazed at her with muted admiration. "Then you are braver than I," he remarked.

"What is there to fear?" she asked matter-of-factly. "I would be more afraid of something forced upon me. But this is part of me; part of us." She considered her brother thoughtfully. "What truly hinders you? Is it the thought of loving Elrohir that frightens you so?"

Legolas stared at her. "I told you I am not ready to fall in love with anyone," he insisted. "Much less my own friend and an _ellon_ at that!"

"Yet you feel so strongly about him that it confounds you now and places you in turmoil."

"I do not know what I feel about Elrohir, I only know I can enjoy his touch. His and no other _ellon's_ it seems. But that is all I will concede."

His sister sighed. "You are as stubborn as a Dwarf, _tôr vell_"—dear brother—she declared. At his indignant glare, she put up her hand and said: "I will not force the issue. But even you must admit he is special in that regard. The one Elf who can stir your blood even against your wishes."

Legolas considered the idea then nodded. "But if that is true, where will this change lead us?"

"Only the Valar know," she said with an encouraging smile. "At least, 'tis Elrohir who causes your bemusement and he would never hurt you knowingly but only desire your happiness."

Legolas had to smile back. "True. He is still my friend, my closest and dearest one."

Seeing her brother's tension dissipate somewhat, Nimeithel's heart gladdened. She looked up at the twilight sky. The stars were just beginning to make their nocturnal appearance.

"Look, 'tis the twins' grandsire, looking down upon us all," she said.

Legolas glanced up and saw bright Eärendil shining with singular clarity. He wondered if the mariner watched over his twin grandsons in Rivendell. And the thought came to him that he, too, might now be included in the mariner's nightly regard. For the Elven prince's life was irrevocably intertwined with that of Eärendil's younger grandson in a way neither could have foreseen when they first met all those centuries ago beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great.

Glossary:  
Yavannië - Quenya for September  
Ivanneth - Sindarin for September  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

The End

**Part 11:** In the Silence of Our Hearts – A jest inadvertently unearths an unsuspected past and sets the stage for an unlikely future. Rating: M


	38. In the Silence of Our Hearts 1

**Summary:** A jest inadvertently unearths an unsuspected past and sets the stage for an unlikely future.

**Characters:** Glorfindel/Erestor, Elrohir/Legolas (implied)

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** Consider this a short break. I wanted to delve a little into Rivendell's resident chief counsellors' relationship for a change. Erestor's history is vague at best. There is little indication of when or where he was born or even if he was of the Noldor or Sindar. One can safely assume that he must have been intelligent and cunning for him to be one of Elrond's most trusted advisors. As for Glorfindel, an Elf-lord of the power and status ascribed to him by Tolkien must have been a force to reckon with even in a fabled realm like Rivendell.

_**In The Silence Of Our Hearts**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _coirë_ T.A. 1980  
Rivendell's golden-haired captain slowly made his way down the main corridor of the Last Homely House to the library. He sighed a little pensively as he neared the chamber. Five years, he thought. Five years since he'd faced the Witch-king of Angmar and driven him out of the north to Mandos-knows-where. The feat had added to his legend.

That hadn't mattered to him. Duty and honor had required the action of him, not vainglory or the need for fame. And besides, all the praise in Arda had not brought him the one thing still lacking in his life.

In two lifetimes worth of living, he had loved only twice and neither had come to fruition. The first was doomed from the start for the lady he'd cherished had loved another. That had pained him but he'd soldiered on and served her and her chosen one as faithfully as his oaths dictated. As for the second...that had hurt even more. For he had destroyed any chances of that love blossoming with ill-considered words. Regret had come afterwards but as was the wont of regret, it had been too late.

He sighed once more. What is the good of a second life if all there is to look forward to is an eternity alone? he mused. He had ceased to believe that such happiness could still be his. He had long ago forced himself to be content with the affections of his friends and the respectful regard of his colleagues. After all, that is what he had in Rivendell, and in great abundance. Best not to yearn for more than what the Valar were willing to give.

He pushed open the library door. Erestor was already seated at the table by the wide mullioned windows. Spread out upon the tabletop were maps and sheaves of parchment. He heard a scuffle to one side and glanced to his left in time to see Elladan taking down a book from the long shelf that lined that side of the chamber. The older twin seemed oblivious of his arrival, busy as he was selecting more volumes.

Glorfindel turned his attention back to Erestor. One golden eyebrow rose in some amusement as he took in the steward's raiment. For someone who held great store by the need for proper attire in public, Erestor was remarkably dressed down. But then again, the captain considered, it was hardly practical to wear one's robes of office for a simple meeting over scout reports and the like. A simple meeting that was sure to be long and wearisome.

Erestor looked up and said without preamble: "'Tis about time you arrived. Mayhap you will manage to make sense of some of these reports."

The fair Elda approached the table bemused. "Why, Erestor? What hinders you in comprehending them?"

"A general lack of order and clarity," the counsellor dryly replied. "Really, Glorfindel, is it too much to ask more coherence from your men?"

"They are warriors, not scribes," Glorfindel wryly said. "You cannot expect them to be as articulate as yourself or Lindir for instance."

"Yet _you_ write with great eloquence, _Captain_," Erestor countered pointedly.

Glorfindel smiled a little at the barbed compliment. "You would actually praise me for something?" he commented bitingly. "Now, that is something that does not occur every day."

Erestor snorted elegantly. "I always give credit where it is due, that is all," he retorted. "Now, may we get on with this? I should like to present Elrond with something before this day is done."

The captain shrugged and sat down opposite him. Sifting through the reports, neither noticed Elladan as he slipped out with an armful of books.

The twin made his way to Elrond's study. Within, Elrond sat at his desk, carefully transcribing old documents onto crisp sheets of parchment. On the couch, Celebrían sat with her feet daintily tucked under, busily embroidering a tunic for her husband. Both looked up and smiled their welcome when their older son entered.

"I hope I got all the books you requested, _Ada_"—Papa—he said, laying the tomes on his father's desk.

"I believe they are all here," Elrond said, swiftly taking stock of the different titles. "Thank you, _ion nîn_."—my son.

"You're welcome."

Elrond glanced up when he realized Elladan had not made a move to leave. If anything, the younger Elf was looking at him curiously.

"What is it?" he inquired, recognizing the signs of an impending interrogation on his son's face.

Elladan grinned. "I wish to ask about Glorfindel and Erestor," he said.

Elrond looked at him in surprise. "What of them?"

"'Tis their demeanor with each other. There is always a bit of reserve between them even in their friendliest encounters. 'Tis difficult to tell if they are friends at all or just colleagues. I have never felt the same... warmth between them that I see in their relationships with others. Why is that?"

Elrond shook his head. "In truth, I do not know," he admitted. "It puzzles me as well considering that Erestor once worshipped the ground Glorfindel stood on."

Elladan stared at his father. "He what?"

"Glorfindel was his teacher long ago when Erestor first came to live here."

Elladan frowned. "I just realized something. I know next to nothing about Erestor's early life, " he remarked. "Just how and when did he come to Imladris?"

"Right after Eregion was overrun by Sauron's hordes," Elrond replied. "He was but a child and his mother soon faded afterwards leaving me as his guardian. But that's starting in the middle of the story. Do you wish to hear the whole of it?"

"Aye, it sounds like an interesting tale." The twin sank down into the chair opposite the desk.

Elrond placed his elbows on the tabletop, steepling his fingers as was his wont when relating a long tale.

"Erestor's mother was a lady in Thingol's court in Doriath," he said. That alone elicited a startled reaction from his son. "His father was a skilled craftsman in the service of Curufin. As you know, Thingol's trust in the Noldor diminished after he learned of the kinslayings. When Erestor's parents fell in love, they removed to Nargothrond rather than endure the king's distrust of Erestor's father. After Nargothrond fell, they were among the few who managed to escape the sack of the city. They fled to Lindon and lived there for a while. Later, after Celebrimbor settled in Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion, they chose to reside there for Erestor's sire desired to live amongst fellow artisans and ply his craft once more."

"'Twas in Ost-in-Edhil that Erestor was born and where he spent his earliest years. But soon after, Sauron invaded Eregion. Glorfindel and I were sent by Gil-galad to give aid but we were unsuccessful and the most we could do was help the survivors get away safely. Many chose to retreat to Lindon. But some came with me to this vale and helped me build Imladris. Erestor's father had perished but his mother survived. She did not live long after, however, for such was her grief. She appointed me Erestor's guardian shortly before she passed away."

Elladan stirred. "How old was Erestor then?"

"He was little more than twenty-five-years old. A mere Elfling. I took it upon myself to raise him as his parents would have wanted. But I asked Glorfindel to be his teacher as I could not take on the task myself at the time."

"And he worshipped Glorfindel?"

"To a fault. I know that Glorfindel tried to temper Erestor's attachment to him but nothing came of his efforts until Erestor's fortieth year. We sent him at that point to Lórien to further his education. He returned for his coming-of-age. By then, he'd changed. Whatever feelings he may have previously harbored for Glorfindel had obviously faded with the time and distance apart."

Elladan considered what his father has said. "And Erestor's feelings were nothing more than hero-worship?" he asked. "He did not feel anything deeper – like love or lust?"

Elrond raised his eyebrows at that. "You would think of that," he commented with some amusement. "I suspected it might be more at one point. But it became moot when he ceased to care overmuch for Glorfindel."

"Why did you ask that, _gwaniuar_?"—older twin?—Celebrían inquired, speaking for the first time. Her voice held the slightest bit of suspicion.

Elladan darted a look at her. "Why, nothing, _Nana_"—Mama—he said. "I was just curious."

Celebrían looked at her husband, her blue eyes twinkling. "Which gives me all the more reason to worry," she said.

"Neither Elrohir nor I have played any pranks on anyone in the last five hundred years!" he protested virtuously.

"That we know about," she rejoined mildly.

Elrond chuckled. "You cannot blame your mother for being wary. You and your brother may have outgrown the more hair-raising activities you were once so renowned for. But you have not outgrown your predilection for jests and have only resorted to more subtle means of expressing them."

Elladan could not help a scapegrace grin. "Really, _Ada_," he murmured. "You'd think we were still Elflings."

He rose and, with an affectionate bow to his parents, departed. Elrond and Celebrían looked at each other.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I do not know what to think," her husband answered. "But I will not be surprised if Erestor comes to me before the week is up bearing some tale of outrage."

"Only Erestor?"

"Our sons have never dared cross Glorfindel overmuch in the past. I do not think they will start at this late date."

oOoOoOo

Elladan barged into his twin's room without preamble. He grinned at the sight that greeted him. Elrohir was sprawled on the cozy divan below the window, his long legs tangled with Legolas' who reclined against the opposite end of the couch. Both were deep in perusal of their respective books.

It was some three hundred years since their friendship had taken the strangest of turns and they had lain as lovers. Since then, Elrohir had not turned to Legolas again for release and their close friendship had gone on as before. If anything, they seemed closer than ever despite the curious lack of any allusions to the intimate interlude they'd shared. Whether this was born of discomfort or a need to anchor their relationship once more in platonic affection, Elladan did not know. Legolas never spoke of it to him and, for once, Elrohir was not forthcoming either. If one did not know they'd once crossed the line of pure friendship, one would never guess it had happened.

Elladan was not sanguine that that was the end of the matter; not where Elrohir was concerned. But his twin had given no indication that his feelings had progressed beyond the mad obsession he'd developed for the Mirkwood prince and Elladan knew better than to pressure him. Elrohir was not one to be hurried towards a poorly considered decision particularly if said decision was of a life-changing nature. He did suspect Elrohir's restraint was more a reluctance to discomfit Legolas anew than a lack of interest but he had no way of confirming this unless his brother decided to confide in him the true nature of his feelings. In the last century, Elrohir had mastered the art of concealing his emotions efficiently even from his own twin.

As for Legolas... Well, he was obviously relieved that Elrohir had not gone to him for intimacy once more. Though he had offered to assuage his friend's need should he ever feel it again, it was not surprising that he should have mixed feelings about the incident. It wasn't only that Mirkwood still observed a general proscription on such pairings but also that he was uncomfortable about turning his long friendship with Elrohir into something else. Legolas, as his two friends knew very well, was reluctant to engage in affairs of the heart. He'd always been wary of risking himself in something so fraught with uncertainty and potential pain. The loss of his mother and his father's grief over it had only deepened his fears of the vicissitudes of romantic love.

Elladan understood and tried to be supportive of both. Elbereth knows they need it, he thought. He put his speculations aside as they disentangled their legs and sat up to face him. His precipitate – and noisy – entrance boded something. Whether ill or well was beside the point.

"You look like a Dwarf who's been given the key to Doriath's lost treasury," Elrohir mildly commented.

Elladan smiled. "Funny you should mention Doriath. 'Tis part of the tale I've just had the good fortune to hear."

"What tale?"

"It has to do with Glorfindel and Erestor."

Instantly, two pairs of eyebrows rose in anticipation and two sets of grins broke out upon two comely countenances.

"Do tell," Legolas beamed.

Elladan did. And more. When he was done, Elrohir guffawed.

"'Tis a splendid idea, _muindo_r, but I cannot believe that our esteemed counsellors will trust anything we give them."

"Especially if 'tis unlooked for," Legolas agreed.

"I know," Elladan said. "I was hoping you might think of a way around that."

Elrohir frowned thoughtfully. Then his face cleared and he beamed with ill-disguised mischief. "Arwen?"

Legolas nearly choked. "Would she cooperate with us?"

"She would," Elrohir said confidently. "Try as she might to be as elegant and demure as mother, she still is a bit of the hoyden of yore. She will be delighted to take part in this."

"I believe you are right," Elladan laughed. "Come, let us talk to her before we approach Iorwen."

oOoOoOo

Glorfindel and Erestor glanced up from their work when Arwen entered bearing a laden tray. They looked at her questioningly as she deposited it on the table. She smiled at them with sweet solicitude.

"'Tis Iorwen's fruit nectar and honey cakes," Arwen said. "She thought you might like some refreshments."

Glorfindel and Erestor brightened up. They had been going over the reports for two hours now. It was tedious work at best, tiresome at worst. The tall pitcher of nectar and plate of pastries was most welcome indeed.

"That is most considerate of Iorwen," Erestor remarked.

Arwen smilingly filled the drinking cups with the fragrant beverage. "Why don't you break that off for now and refresh yourselves? Surely a brief rest will not delay you overmuch."

Glorfindel grinned warmly at the Elf-maiden. "Thank you, Arwen. This is most appreciated."

She swallowed a treacherous giggle and dimpled at them instead. "I will leave you to it then."

Had the two older Elves been more observant they would have wondered why she exited the library with undue haste. As it was they set to the simple repast with relief, relishing the cool nectar in particular.

A few cups each later, both felt strangely relaxed. And warm besides. Too warm. That was puzzling. This February had been unusually cold and even the Elves had felt the difference from the previous years though it did not trouble them.

Glorfindel pulled at his collar and muttered, "Am I imagining things or is it getting hot in here?"

Erestor shook his head. "Nay, I feel it, too."

Before long, Glorfindel impatiently doffed his tunic, hoping to get some relief from the odd warmth that suffused his entire body. Erestor, less inclined to take such a cavalier approach to propriety in public, settled for loosening the high collar of his shirt. But after a few minutes, he reluctantly unlaced the shirt to expose his neck to some cooling air.

The two continued to discuss the reports and scour the maps though Erestor noted bemusedly that their conversation was becoming increasingly desultory. He glanced up at Glorfindel during a curious lull and realized the warrior was gazing at him. Nay, not at him but at his bare throat.

Erestor, in turn, found himself taking uncharacteristic interest in the muscled form of his companion, which was more than adequately revealed by his silken shirt. He blinked, startled by the direction his thoughts had taken. He chided himself and tried to focus once more on the sheaf of parchment before him. Glorfindel continued to eye him with disconcerting intensity.

"Glorfindel? Are you paying attention?" he prodded, trying to sound authoritative. But to his confusion his voice came out in a husky purr.

The Elda's eyes moved up to his face. Now the cobalt pools centered on the counsellor's mouth instead.

"Beautiful," he murmured. Erestor stared at his colleague unbelievingly. Glorfindel's lips curled into a slow, sensual smile. "You are beautiful," he drawled.

The steward's mouth dropped open in shock. He tried to speak but his dazed mind refused to supply any response. At least, not any proper response.

Seeing the usually unflappable Elf so at a loss for words, cheeks flushed and sinuous lips parted, Glorfindel felt a delicious shiver of desire course through his limbs. Silently, he rose to his feet and walked purposefully to the opposite side of the table. Vaguely alarmed, Erestor stood up as well but failed to move away; his feet felt strangely leaden.

He could only stare wide eyed as the golden warrior came to stand mere inches from him. Glorfindel raised his hand and slid it up and around Erestor's neck to settle on the auburn-haired Elf's nape.

"Glorfindel?" Erestor said in a quavering voice. "What – what are you doing?"

The turquoise eyes widened with predatory brilliance. A wicked grin graced the proud mouth.

"Why, enjoying your company, _pen neth_, what else?" he murmured huskily.

Young one? Erestor thought somewhat stupidly. The Elda had not called him thus since he left his tutelage. It suddenly reminded Erestor that he was indeed millennia younger than Glorfindel.

"You should not – that is, we are not—" Erestor stuttered incoherently, his polished tongue inexplicably unruly, his statesman's poise all but unravelled by his companion's seductive demeanor.

"You talk too much," Glorfindel growled. With shocking deliberateness, he closed the gap between them and sealed his mouth to Erestor's.

Tremors of alarm raced through the counsellor. Yet he could not summon the will or desire to push the Elda away. Indeed, another kind of heat flared up within him and without thinking he curled his arms around the warrior's muscular frame.

Instantly, he was locked in a crushing embrace, his lips forced to part and his mouth peremptorily invaded. Erestor began to shake. Memories of the distant past swirled in his passion-mired mind. He tried to collect himself, tried to gather back the tattered shreds of his dignified reserve. But the shreds eluded his floundering grasp and he found himself melting further into the warrior's embrace.

His lips were suddenly released but he had no time to wonder or protest for Glorfindel's mouth traveled to his jaw and down his throat with deliberate thoroughness, kissing, sucking and nipping at the smooth pale skin.

He caught his breath as he felt himself lowered onto the table, Glorfindel insinuating himself with practiced ease between his legs.

"Glorfindel!" he gasped. "This – this is madness! We can't—!"

The Elda silenced him anew with another assault on his already swollen lips. He felt the warrior's hands on his tunic, swiftly unfastening the clasps, parting the garment, then making short work of the ties on his shirt to bare him to the waist. He tried to protest once more but then Glorfindel pressed hard against his groin and he was effectively hushed by the bolts of sensation produced by his own arousal.

Glorfindel broke the kiss and stared down at him. He espied the flaring lust in the cat-like eyes and smiled wickedly. "Still want me to stop, _pen neth_?" he murmured.

Erestor could only mutely shake his head. The reward for his compliance came in a series of caresses of such fervor that they left him breathless and bereft of all lucid thought. Glorfindel leaned over him, plying lips and tongue in detailed exploration of the younger counsellor's torso. Erestor moaned and began to breath in ragged intervals.

He reached with trembling hands to touch the golden hair and run his fingers through the silken tresses. He could no longer think of anything beyond what the warrior was doing to him. His heart nearly stopped when he felt Glorfindel tug at the laces of his long breeches, his other hand moving to cup the telltale bulge on his groin.

Things may have gotten completely out of hand but for a most providential interruption. Voices in the hall outside penetrated the library doors and the two Elves' passion-fevered senses. Both froze, their lust quelled in an instant by recognition of one of the voices. Elrond!

The Lord of Rivendell had paused outside the chamber to speak to someone. Lindir from the sound of it. Horrified, his two most trusted colleagues broke apart and hastily set about erasing the evidence of their illicit activity. Luck was with them as whatever Elrond had to discuss with the housemaster proved engrossing enough to keep him out of the library before the captain and the steward had finished their task.

When Elrond finally swept into the chamber he found the two seated at the table, apparently still studying the reports and maps laid out before them. He shook his head, amused and amazed at their diligence. They looked up as he came to the table.

"Come _mellynen_, enough of this," he said. "You can finish discussing these reports tomorrow."

He fully expected them to demur. He especially expected Erestor to press on with the work at hand. But to his surprise, both Elves glanced at each other, flushed, then averted their eyes, and finally rose to their feet almost simultaneously.

"Aye, you are right," Glorfindel agreed. "These can wait."

"We will see to it that 'tis completed by tomorrow," Erestor added.

Elrond could only stare in disbelief as his chief advisors exited the library rather hurriedly, parting ways in the corridor as soon as they could. And all the time, both avoiding looking at each other with assiduous care. Elrond wondered bewilderedly, did I miss something?

Glossary:  
coirë – Quenya for early spring, roughly February to March  
Ost-in-Edhil – the chief city of Eregion, the great Elvish nation of the mid-Second Age  
muindor – brother  
mellynen – my friends

_To be continued_…


	39. In the Silence of Our Hearts 2

_**In The Silence of Our Hearts**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
Glorfindel came out of his room the following morning, wincing as each step jarred his aching head. He was surprised to find Erestor awaiting him on the porch just outside his quarters. The dark-haired Elf was seated at the small table therein, a goblet in front of him. He looked none the worse for the headache he must have surely experienced the night before.

"You look rather well," Glorfindel commented a little resentfully.

To his amazement, Erestor smiled brightly and said, "Lord Elrond provided me with a most efficacious remedy. Here, drink this," he advised, indicating the goblet. "It will ease your headache quite quickly."

Glorfindel took a seat and reached dubiously for the goblet. Glancing sceptically at the counsellor, he raised it and downed its content swiftly. His grimace eloquently expressed his opinion of the draught.

"Are you certain you aren't trying to get rid of me?" he scowled.

Erestor actually chuckled, making the golden-haired Elda stare at him. "If I wanted to get rid of you, _meldir_, I wouldn't resort to something as unreliable as poison," he replied rather smugly.

"No? Then what would you use?"

"Any number of measures that you know well. You taught them to me after all."

Glorfindel smiled. The reply had been uttered with warmth and – could it be? – affection?

"Aye, you were always a most able student. My very best, in fact." His heart gladdened further when Erestor's eyes gleamed with pleasure at the compliment. This was certainly a welcome development.

He suddenly sighed with relief as his headache dissipated. "Ai, thank the Powers! I thought my head would burst." He glanced at Erestor questioningly. "What in Arda happened yesterday? Do you know?"

Erestor nodded. "'Twas the drink."

"But it was just Iorwen's fruit nectar."

"So Arwen told us. But I spoke to Iorwen about this and she said the twins asked her to make up a pitcher for them."

Glorfindel sat back with a comprehending sigh. "Why does that not surprise me?" he remarked. "I wonder what they put in it."

"My thoughts exactly," Erestor commented wryly. He continued, "They neglected to remove the pitcher from the library and I was able to examine the remaining contents."

"And?"

"It had separated during the night and the nectar settled on the bottom. The liquid on top was _miruvor_."

"_Miruvor!_" Glorfindel stared at the steward in disbelief.

"In equal proportion to the nectar itself."

The fair-haired Elda let out his breath. "Elbereth!" he muttered. "No wonder we—" He stopped, his fair face flushing with embarrassment.

"Aye, no wonder," Erestor agreed with a small smile.

Glorfindel wondered at the steward's mellow mood. Mayhap he was still affected by the cordial? He felt his cheeks burn as he again remembered what had nearly happened the day before.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Since this was obviously a jest on their part, were they...?" He trailed off, discomfited by the thought that their former charges had most likely been at the very doors of the library listening in on the results of their ingenious scheme.

Some trace of color stained the steward's cheeks. A very becoming sight, Glorfindel absently noted.

"I thought of that," Erestor admitted. "'Tis most likely they were just outside."

"Until Elrond approached."

"Aye."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I do not know whether to strangle them or salute them for their creativity." He glanced his companion ruefully. "I apologize for my behavior yesterday," he offered. "It was unseemly of me."

Again Erestor surprised him by beaming good-humoredly. "Do not apologize. We were not ourselves."

"That we were not," Glorfindel vigorously agreed. "Not for all the mithril in Arda would I have ever done that if not for that confounded concoction!"

With his words, the good humor abruptly seeped out of Erestor's expression. He frowned and sat back in his chair, shoulders stiffening discernibly. Glorfindel was startled by the sudden transformation.

"Erestor, what is wrong?"

Erestor's mouth tightened. "It seems things have not changed after all," he said so softly, Glorfindel had to strain to hear him. "I should have known."

Glorfindel stared at him perplexed. "Should have known what?"

The slate green eyes narrowed. "I should have known better than to fool myself." Bitterness crept into the steward's voice. His face settled into his well-known reserved mask.

"What are you talking about?"

"I shall speak to the young ones and ensure they never repeat this," Erestor responded coldly. "I would not have you experience such unpleasantness again."

Glorfindel was aghast. With belated enlightenment, he realized what his words must have imparted to the auburn-haired Elf. But before he could speak, Erestor rose from his chair and began to walk away. Glorfindel caught him by the wrist.

"Erestor, I did not mean it that way," he said ruefully.

He winced inwardly when the counsellor plucked his hand from his grip as if he had been scalded by his touch.

"Spare me your bogus apologies," Erestor retorted. "You always mean exactly what you say."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Glorfindel demanded indignantly.

"_Turn your fancy elsewhere, pen neth. You are not up to my exacting standards_," Erestor hissed. "Have you forgotten your words, Glorfindel? I have not. But you need not fear another distasteful encounter for, I assure you, this will never happen again!"

With those scathing words, he turned away and strode swiftly from the porch leaving Glorfindel impaled on the remorse-tipped spear of painful memories. The Elda did not stir from his seat, immobilized by regret and hopelessness. He did not hear the approach of others until they were practically upon him.

"Glorfindel?"

He glanced up to see Elrond's children and the Mirkwood prince standing before him, faces limned with concern and distress. Suspicion coursed through his mind.

"Are you all right?" Elladan added.

Glorfindel scowled. "You heard?"

The four glanced at each other guiltily. Elrohir explained: "We did not mean to. We were planning to speak to you but Erestor was already waiting for you."

"We did not want to interrupt your conversation," Arwen murmured.

"And so you eavesdropped instead," Glorfindel said caustically.

"We are sorry," Elladan offered. "'Twas not our intention.

"But we are glad we did," Elrohir finished.

"Glad?" Glorfindel repeated incredulously.

"Aye. Because now we can help you."

"You have already helped too much!" Glorfindel bellowed.

The quartet flinched, convinced that that roar had been heard all the way to the Golden Wood. Legolas hastily said: "We only thought to get you and Erestor to relax and become closer to each other. For too long have you two suffered in loneliness."

Glorfindel was taken aback. "I do not know what you are talking about, Legolas," he replied.

"Oh, stuff it, Glorfindel!" Ignoring the four pairs of shocked eyes that descended on her, Arwen pressed on. "We know you too well not to recognize how lonely you are though the Valar know how hard you try to hide it."

"Erestor is even worse," Elladan remarked. "He pretends not to care but we know better."

"Please, let us help you," Elrohir said. "If we caused you trouble with our actions then we are truly sorry. At least, allow us to make amends in whatever way we can."

Glorfindel sighed wearily. He knew they would not relent until he had acquiesced. "What do you want then?"

"The truth. What drove you to say such a cruel thing to him?"

"'Tis a long story," Glorfindel said unhappily.

Legolas smiled encouragingly. "We have all morning."

Glorfindel almost groaned as the four settled themselves around the table. They were determined to hear the tale.

"From the jest you played on us, I assume you already know something of our past," Glorfindel scowled.

They had the grace to flush in chagrin.

"We found out he was one of your students," Elladan admitted.

"And that he was quite attached to you," Arwen added.

Glorfindel stared at them then nodded. "He was not merely one of my students," he said. "He was the best of them. My favorite because of his intelligence and wit."

"And beauty?" Elladan ventured.

Glorfindel glared at him at first then exhaled in resigned exasperation. "The things you think of..."

"Father says you tried to temper his attachment to you," Elrohir prodded.

The captain grimaced uncomfortably. "I was uneasy with his devotion," he explained. "He was so vulnerable and at an age when his feelings were at their most turbulent. I did not want him to get hurt. Not after he'd lost his parents so cruelly."

Arwen frowned. "Would he have gotten hurt?" she softly asked.

Her query made Glorfindel catch his breath. He paused uncertainly. "I am not certain..." he murmured. "I only did what I thought was right for him." He looked at their attentive expressions. He finally gave in, recognizing the futility of stalling with these four.

oOoOoOo

He was in his room, abed, unwinding after a long day of training young warriors. He had not been expecting anything untoward to happen. It was then that Erestor had come to him heralded by a timid knock on his door. He swiftly rose after bidding the youth to enter.

The Elf had just returned from a short visit to Lindon where some of his distant kin resided under Círdan's lordship. He had enjoyed his stay at the Grey Havens and the company of his father's cousins. But even the beauty of the sea had not assuaged his yearning for Rivendell, the one place he considered his true home, and he had come back sooner than expected.

The painfully shy adolescent had blossomed into a warm and affectionate man-child. Erestor, with his silken hair of darkest auburn, grey green cat-like eyes, proud, aquiline nose and thin yet sinuous lips, was of uncommon handsomeness. Glorfindel did not know much about his forebears but oft thought that it was a glorious fusion of Vanyarin, Noldorin and Sindarin blood that must have gone into the lad's making.

The young Elf was also swiftly gaining the body of an Elven warrior thanks to Glorfindel's diligent instructions. But his main interest still lay in the scholarly pursuits rather than in warfare. That combination of sensuous features, physically trained form and serious, knowledge-hungry eyes was nothing less than breathtaking. Erestor did not seem to take notice, indeed seemed wholly immune to it, but he garnered the admiration of more and more Elf-males and maids alike as he matured.

The youth now approached his teacher with hesitation, his cheeks coloring ever so slightly in bashfulness. The fading light of Anôr shining through the paned windows to his right brought out the lush dark red of his burnished hair. Glorfindel had to smile at the charming apparition that neared him.

"What is it, _pen neth_?"—young one?—Glorfindel asked gently.

"I-I have something for you, _hir nîn_"—my lord—Erestor half stammered.

"Something for me?" Glorfindel's smile widened. "What is the occasion?'

"No occasion. 'Tis only a token of gratitude for all the time and effort you have spent on me."

The youth shyly presented a small velvety bundle tied with a delicate ribbon. Glorfindel accepted it with gravity softened by the small smile on his lips. He opened the bundle slowly, giving the present due reverence. He paused in amazement when the enclosing fabric fell open.

Against the dark cloth lay a pendant hung from a thin chain of gold. It was highly unusual and therefore quite unique. As unique as its giver, the golden-haired Elda mused.

It was an oval stone of varied hues of green and slate grey with a few streaks of black. It reminded Glorfindel of the color of Erestor's eyes. The young Elf had had it polished to a fine sheen and mounted within a delicate circlet of gold.

Glorfindel gazed at it, immensely moved. He had no doubts that Erestor had patiently combed the pebbled beaches of the Gulf of Lhûn, searching for this one perfect creation of nature. It was in keeping with his scholarly tendencies that he should have perceived the intrinsic beauty of what others would have disparagingly called a mere colored stone.

"'Tis wondrous fair, Erestor," he murmured, a catch in his voice. "I will always treasure it."

The rapturous smile that answered his praise heightened the boyish beauty of the young Elf. Glorfindel had to school himself not to show too much appreciation for his student's comeliness.

"I am glad you like it," Erestor whispered. "Though there is nothing that could possibly match you in – In magnificence."

The Noldorin Elf was taken aback. The compliment was more than heartfelt. It was adoring. Indeed, he now realized that the feline eyes were openly, innocently worshipping him. He caught his breath. This he had not expected. This he was not prepared for.

"_Hir nîn_? Lord Elrond wants me to live for a while in Lórien. He says you think it will further my education. Is this true?"

"Aye, I suggested it to him," Glorfindel replied, relieved that the youth's interest seemed to have shifted elsewhere.

"But I do not wish to leave Imladris," Erestor said earnestly. "I do not wish to leave _you_."

The warrior stiffened with alarm once more. The youth's interest had not changed after all. "Erestor, you have learned all that I can possibly teach you," he said. "'Tis time you came under the tutelage of others. Celeborn and Galadriel are excellent teachers."

"But I hardly know them," Erestor protested. "I do not care for them the way I – I care for you," he added in a hushed voice.

Glorfindel swallowed hard. There. It had been said. Trying to preempt any more like declarations, he reproved the youth. "You must not say such things!"

Instantly the cat-like eyes dimmed with hurt. It was all Glorfindel could do not to pull the lad into a comforting embrace. He bit back the apology that leaped to his lips. But Erestor's next words shattered his resolve.

"I did not know it was wrong to care for someone," he whispered with heart-wrenching dejection.

Guilt washed over Glorfindel. "'Tis not wrong at all, _pen neth_," he replied gently.

"Then why were you angered by what I said?" the young Elf asked dolefully.

"I was not angered," Glorfindel assured him. "Indeed, I am touched that you should think so highly of me."

"I do not merely think highly of you," Erestor objected with heart-stopping innocence. "I-I love you. I have loved you these past many years!"

_Valar!_ Glorfindel was now thoroughly alarmed. "You are much too young to know your heart," he said, trying to let the lad down as gently as possible.

"But you always say that I know my heart better than most," Erestor argued. "That I am old beyond my years."

The Elda silently cursed himself for having been so fulsome in his praise of the young Elf however sincere he'd been when he'd uttered it.

"This is not right," he said, trying to sound firm. "I do not think this a wise course for you to follow."

"You disapprove?" Erestor said painfully. "Perhaps you have no liking for a half-breed Sinda with no noble blood or illustrious heritage to recommend him to a high-born Noldo like yourself. A nobody of little worth."

Glorfindel gasped in indignation. "You are neither a nobody nor of little worth!" he swiftly countered. "Never think yourself less than anyone else. You are most precious, Erestor. Always believe that."

"You think me precious?" The query was uttered with such joy and awe that it rendered the warrior speechless for several seconds.

It took a moment before the stupefied Elven captain could recover his madly scattered wits. When he regained his tongue, he found it suddenly less articulate than usual. "Well, of course, yes—" he floundered. "That is to say—"

Erestor neared him and took the pendant from his hand. With a smile that was fatally endearing, he raised it to hang about his teacher's neck. He said softly, "May I?"

Glorfindel could only nod his acquiescence, stricken silent by the tempting proximity of the youth. He had to take a deep steadying breath as Erestor slowly drew the chain down until the pendant hung against his chest. He locked gazes with the young Elf, found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

Erestor, his hands still holding the chain, hesitated, then, with a small, shy smile, pressed his lips against his teacher's mouth. The contact was electrifying. In that instant, desire surged through Glorfindel's every vein. Against his volition, against every principle he had ever adhered to, he caught the young Elf to himself and returned the kiss. His mind clouded by the youth's innocent beguilement, he could not stop himself from plundering the other's mouth. He felt Erestor trembling in his arms, was faintly aware of his own body's dastardly reaction.

_How in Arda could an Elf still ten cycles of the sun short of his majority have such a devastating effect on someone as jaded as he?_

Ten cycles of the sun! The thought jolted him out of his lust-fogged state. With a tremendous effort he brought himself under control once more, dragged his lips from Erestor's all-too-tempting mouth and released the youth from his embrace.

Erestor was flushed and panting erratically. The slate green eyes were brilliant with newly awakened passion. Glorfindel berated himself for having been so weak as to give in to his base desires. Schooling his expression, he forced a cool, detached mask upon his countenance. The change did not go unnoticed by Erestor. The youth stared at his teacher in puzzlement.

"That was pleasant," Glorfindel made himself remark. "But not good enough, I fear."

Erestor's eyes widened with increasing perplexity and the beginnings of hurt. "What – what do you mean?" he stammered.

Staunchly ignoring the youth's confused reaction, Glorfindel coolly said, "Turn your fancy elsewhere, _pen neth_. You are not to my exacting standards."

Erestor gasped in shock. His eyes suddenly brightened with pained tears. There was no mistaking the sense of betrayal in their depths. He stepped away, his body flinching as if Glorfindel had dealt him a physical blow.

The warrior felt his heart clench at the misery in the youth's eyes. Yet Erestor did him proud, refusing to give in to the agonizing need to shed tears. He would not do so in his teacher's presence.

Glorfindel swallowed the urge to take back his words and pull the young Elf into his arms. "Mayhap you would like your gift back?" he asked softly, not trusting his voice to remain steady.

Erestor stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment. Then suddenly the feline eyes glared at him in hurt fury. "'Tis a gift!" he hissed. "It would be discourteous to take it back!"

On that angry note, he swiftly departed leaving Glorfindel numbed and shaken by the rapid change in his demeanor.

Within the week he left for Lothlórien. He did not speak with his teacher before he departed, did not so much as glance back at Glorfindel as he rode out of the courtyard of the Last Homely House.

He returned a decade later in time to celebrate his coming-of-age in Rivendell. He came home a virtual stranger. Gone was the sweet, smiling Elf who had shown himself capable of so much love and open affection. In his place was a cool, intelligent young adult whose smile did not always reach his eyes. Gone, too, was his warm, easy relationship with the Imladrin captain. He was cordial, willing to converse as the need arose even to the extent of bantering or jesting with him on occasion and showed nothing but utmost respect for his former tutor. But that was all. The Erestor of old had vanished.

-----------------------------------------------------

**Note:** Miruvor, the cordial of Rivendell, was not just an alcoholic drink. It also had the virtue of warming the body. Gandalf gave miruvor to the members of the Company of the Ring during their unsuccessful attempt to use the Redhorn Pass on snowbound Caradhras.

_To be continued_…


	40. In the Silence of Our Hearts 3

_**In The Silence of Our Hearts**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
Arwen gasped at the conclusion of the tale. "Glorfindel, he was trying to mend matters with you this morn!" she exclaimed.

Glorfindel sighed and nodded. "And I wrecked the opportunity with my stupidity and all too rash tongue. How I was ever adjudged intelligent enough to be your teacher is beyond my ability to fathom."

"Nay, you were not thinking straight," Elladan said soothingly.

"Cold comfort," the golden captain said morosely. "If Erestor had been about to forgive me, I certainly ruined my chances of gaining it today. I now fear he never shall."

"But I do not think that was Erestor's intent," Elrohir murmured. "More likely he was warm with you because he believed he'd finally won your approval."

"My what?" Glorfindel's face was a picture of pure confusion.

"Really, Glorfindel, you will make _me_ doubt your intelligence as well," Elrohir remarked. "If Erestor has been reserved with you all these centuries, 'tis not because he felt you had wronged him but because he thought himself beneath you."

"Elrohir is right," Legolas agreed. "You made him think he was unworthy of your affections. 'Not up to your exacting standards,' as you said."

Glorfindel sat back and groaned. "Ai, I should have cut off my tongue rather than ever uttered those accursed words!"

"But why have you never told him the truth?" Arwen inquired with a frown.

"I wanted to," Glorfindel said. "I had planned to when he reached his majority. But he was so changed, so unwilling to speak of the incident that I finally gave up trying to broach it. I thought he had ceased to care for me in that manner. He certainly took enough lovers to persuade me that his feelings for me were long over." He could not quite prevent the catch in his voice as he uttered these last words. "I could hardly force the subject upon him when he seemed so disinclined to even remember it."

"But he does remember it," Legolas commented. "And with no diminishment in his feelings about what occurred."

"And therefore still bears the pain of it even after all these years," Elrohir finished.

"As you bear the pain," Arwen softly said. "Don't you?" At the startled reaction of the fair Elda, she hesitantly reached out her hand and ran one graceful finger along the delicate gold chain that barely peeked out from under his collar. "May I?"

At the captain's wordless nod, she drew out the chain. At its base hung a pendant. A polished stone of green and grey mounted in a fragile ring of gold. The young Elves gazed at it in wonder. Here was the evidence of Glorfindel's well-hidden secret. His abiding love for the Elf who had offered this simple yet priceless treasure to him.

"Tell him the truth," Arwen urged him.

"To what end?" he said wearily. "If he no longer cares, it will not matter if he knows the truth or not."

"For his sake then if not your own," Elladan counseled. "For his sense of worth. Would you have him continue believing that he was not good enough for you?"

Glorfindel caught his breath then shook his head. "You are right," he quietly conceded. "I should have told him no matter the consequences." He rose from his seat, prompting the others to rise as well. "I suppose 'tis absurd to postpone this any longer."

Elrohir placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "It will be all right, Glorfindel," he softly said.

The Elda smiled wanly. "Such optimism," he murmured, concealing the pendant once more. "I fear it will not be that simple, Elf-knight. I will go to him but I feel no confidence that the outcome will be pleasant for either of us."

"Yet you already have the advantage of knowing he did love you and mayhap still does," Elrohir pointed out. "Most beings must contend with the uncertainty of their loved ones' regard or wither from unreturned passion. 'Twould be a pity to waste this opportunity, Glorfindel. Not everyone gets a second chance, be it in life or in love."

Glorfindel stared at Elrohir in surprise. He could not quite put his finger on it but he had the oddest feeling the younger twin was speaking from experience. He caught the surreptitious glances Elladan and Arwen darted at their brother and knew his suspicion for truth. Only Legolas seemed oblivious of the nuances of Elrohir's words, which was strange considering how close the two were. It seemed the Elf-knight had not confided this matter in his friend, which meant he was not yet entirely certain of his feelings at present. But who...?

He chided himself. He had no business prying into Elrohir's affairs if the latter was inclined to keep them to himself. And he had to admit, the twin's counsel was not only sound but also sage. With a nod to the four younger Elves, he turned and headed for the library of Rivendell. Erestor's refuge.

oOoOoOo

As he surmised, he found Erestor in the library, already busy on the report he'd promised Elrond. The steward looked up as he entered, his countenance as cool and collected as ever.

"I trust we can finish this report?" he said evenly. "Elrond will be expecting it."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I did not come here because of that," he said. "I came to speak with you."

"About what?"

"There is something I need to tell you," Glorfindel hesitantly said. "Something I should have told you long ago."

"Which is?" Erestor prompted.

"That I did not mean what I said when I turned you away all those years ago."

For a moment, Erestor stared at him, surprise swiftly overtaking his earlier equanimity. And then, like a storm descending upon the valley, anger suddenly darkened his eyes.

"Do not feed me falsehoods, Glorfindel!" Erestor retorted. "I have not forgotten your scorn. You can hardly expect me to believe you.

"I know but 'tis the truth nevertheless."

"If 'tis the truth then why _did_ you turn me away?"

"To discourage you from pursuing me," the warrior explained. "You were so young and in my care. To take you to my bed would have been a serious betrayal of my charge."

At this, Erestor forgot his usual equanimity and vented his long-suppressed frustration.

"So you destroyed my joy?" he said incredulously. "Took away my hope? Made me believe I was so beneath you as not to merit even your lust? You did that to me, you whom I trusted more than anyone else?"

Glorfindel bore the verbal assault unprotestingly though his face paled under its fury. He waited meekly for the tirade to abate. And when it ended he kept his voice low and humble.

"I am truly sorry," he softly offered.

"Why are telling me this now?"

"Because you deserve to know. Because I would not have you continue believing that I..." Glorfindel paused then swallowed hard before saying, "...do not want you."

The steward was stricken dumb for a few painful minutes. When he finally found his tongue, he could only say: "Why did you not tell me this when I returned? Why did you allow me to continue in the belief that I was so unworthy of your regard?"

"I longed to tell you. But by then you were so distant from me, I thought you no longer cared." Glorfindel paused as the memory of heartache recalled itself to him. "And your attention had turned elsewhere," he haltingly added.

"It was forced elsewhere!" Erestor snarled. "You virtually ordered me to stay away from you."

"And I have suffered for that ever since."

"Suffered? What do you know of such pain?'

"More than you can possibly imagine."

"I find that difficult to believe!" Erestor hissed. "From what could you have suffered?"

"From unrelenting regret and jealousy." Erestor was rendered wordless anew. Glorfindel did not give him time to speak but pressed on. "I was moved by what you sought to give me. You came to me untouched, unspoiled. No greater gift had I ever been offered then or since."

"Yet you turned my gift away!"

"I did not think of the consequences of my haste. I did not realize I would have to endure watching others take what I had so rashly refused. Your innocence, your passion, your love." When Erestor stared at him speechless with surprise, he continued. "It has been a torment pretending not to care when in truth I was wracked with envy, shaken by fury that others could have what I had practically forbidden myself."

Still Erestor did not speak. The stormy eyes were narrowed with incredulity. The disbelief, the patent distrust broke Glorfindel's heart.

"Have you nothing to say?" he softly asked.

"What is there to say? You would have me believe that you suffered as much as I."

"Nay, I would say that I suffered even more. Your torment was not of your own making. I have no such consolation. I must live with the pain of being skewered on the lance of my own folly."

"Indeed," Erestor said, his voice dripping with scorn. "And what would you have me do now, Noldo?"

He uttered the name as if it were an imprecation. Glorfindel felt his heart shatter into countless shards of pain.

"Nothing," he whispered, defeat in his voice. "I only wanted you to know the truth. I do not desire to continue hiding what I really feel."

With that he departed from the library, his golden head bowed. Erestor stared after him, breathing hard.

_To be continued_…


	41. In the Silence of Our Hearts 4

_**In The Silence of Our Hearts**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
Glorfindel left on border patrol the following morning, Elrohir and Legolas in tow. Erestor watched him depart, his feelings at war within him. Every instinct screamed at him to go to Rivendell's captain and make peace with him. But his pride deterred him at every turn.

He soon had reason to rue his stubbornness when the patrol returned unexpectedly three days later. He was in the library with Elladan when Legolas burst into the chamber, his face ashen with fear.

"Erestor, come quickly!" he cried. "Glorfindel is grievously injured!"

The volume the seneschal was holding dropped to the floor with a crash. Without a word, he and Elladan followed the Mirkwood prince to the healing halls at a brisk run. They burst unceremoniously into the room wherein the golden Elf-lord lay. Three healers were bent over his body including Elrond himself. Elrohir stood at his side holding a basin of impossibly scarlet-tinted water. Erestor could not withhold a sharp intake of breath when his eyes fell upon Glorfindel.

The warrior lay on his stomach, his eyes closed, his face still and white. But his back – his back was covered with the crimson flow of his life's blood.

"What-what happened?" he hoarsely asked Elrond who labored steadily over the wounded warrior.

"Three knife wounds. Very deep and wide," Elrond replied distractedly, his healer's hands deftly manipulating the wounded flesh to staunch the bleeding within and without. "Fortunately, they are not poisoned." He lifted his head momentarily to glance at Erestor, wondering at his steward's stricken face. "But he has lost much blood and is severely weakened."

Erestor drew a shuddering breath. "Will he die?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Not if I can help it," Elrond pronounced tersely. "Fear not, Erestor. I will not let those infernal creatures have this victory. Mandos' Halls will not be graced by Glorfindel's presence a second time."

Erestor swallowed with difficulty. Looking up he saw Celebrían and Arwen at the door, staring in horror at the sight of Rivendell's beloved captain so seriously injured. Arwen's eyes suddenly met his and he flinched. The Elf-maid's glare was patently accusing. He lowered his eyes. It seemed Arwen knew about their last encounter if not its content. And it was obvious that she regarded it as the direct cause of Glorfindel's present state.

The captain had been distracted the morning he led the patrol out of the valley. That would account for his failure to evade his enemy's strokes. The Elf was too seasoned a warrior and too agile an opponent to have been so careless as to open himself to such an assault.

I _am_ to blame, Erestor castigated himself. He would not have been in such a state had I not been so cruel and unforgiving.

He kept watch over the warrior for the next several days, leaving his side only when necessary, puzzling Elrond and Celebrían when he stubbornly insisted on virtually tending to all the injured Elda's needs. He took over ministering to the wounds and changing the bandages as soon as Elrond declared Glorfindel out of immediate danger. He coaxed spoonfuls of broth past the pliant lips when the golden-haired Elf was conscious enough to swallow nourishment though not aware of who cared for him. And he bathed him as tenderly and carefully as he might a newborn infant. Only it wasn't quite the same as bathing a babe, Erestor realized with shock and wonder the first time he undressed his former mentor.

He had never seen Glorfindel completely naked before. His bared torso, yes, when he trained Rivendell's warriors, oft clad in naught but breeches and boots. He had never admitted to himself just how much he was affected by the picture of what he'd once sought to know more intimately. The hurt and humiliation he'd experienced in his youth had always barred the way.

But now, he was faced with the full splendor of the Elf-warrior. Even while lying on a sickbed barely pulled back from the brink of death, he was the image of all that was beautiful and noble and desirable. His hands trembled as he deftly washed Glorfindel's form, hesitating when he came to the Elda's groin.

Dare I? he thought. Steeling himself, he attempted to finish his chore soonest. But his hand shook almost violently when it brushed against Glorfindel's shaft. He stopped his movements and cursed his lack of control. Then, unable to hold back, he hesitantly drew his fingers once through the golden curls upon the Elda's groin and along the length of his shaft. Dear Elbereth, it was a formidable spear even when quiescent. What more when Glorfindel was aroused?

Erestor heaved a pensive sigh. Not that he would ever know. After everything that had happened, it was unlikely Glorfindel would approach him again. He had severed the last connection that might still have bridged the gap between them with his prideful words. The thought saddened him immeasurably and dampened the incipient lust that had stirred within him. He completed his task with little more difficulty.

oOoOoOo

He was tucking the covers securely around the warrior when he became aware of the latter's groggy scrutiny. It was now more than a week since the incident and Glorfindel had been drifting in and out of consciousness the past few days. Erestor could not be sure if the captain had been aware of his steady presence. Until now.

A pair of aquamarine eyes regarded him with full lucidity.

"You did not have to take care of me," Glorfindel quietly said, his voice somewhat thready. "But thank you anyway."

Erestor was at a loss for words. This was so sudden. He was completely unprepared.

"How do you feel?" he finally asked, then cursed himself silently for such an inane opening.

Glorfindel grimaced. "Like death warmed over," he muttered. He tried to rise only to feel the room spin around him.

Erestor quickly caught him as he fell back dizzily.

"Do not move!" he softly exclaimed. "You are still weak, my friend."

Glorfindel lay still awhile, waiting for his head to stop whirling.

"Am I?" he asked at length.

"Are you what?" Erestor stared at him confusedly.

"Your friend."

The steward was shocked. "Of course you are!"

Glorfindel simply looked at him. Erestor shivered inwardly at the lack of emotion in the usually expressive cobalt pools.

"I had better get Elrond," he said.

The captain merely nodded. Erestor departed, his heart weighted with apprehension.

Glorfindel's recovery was swift from that point onwards. Ever the warrior he rose from his sickbed sooner than might have been expected and returned to his duties as soon as he was deemed fit enough to do so. Not even Elrond could persuade him to take his time before resuming his responsibilities. He had wasted enough time lying abed.

Erestor watched him go about his way with a heavy heart. Not once did the Elda speak to him of their quarrel. Indeed, he did not speak to him at all if he could help it. But it was not anger that made him keep his distance.

It was my own words to him the last time we talked that keeps him away, Erestor despondently admitted to himself.

The steward was aware an apology to the captain was warranted. He'd had the right to be angry with Glorfindel but there had been no need to be vicious about it. Unfortunately, Erestor was also as proud as they came. He'd seldom apologized to anyone in his life; he'd avoided situations that would require him to humble himself thusly. The encounter with Glorfindel in his youth had traumatized him so deeply he'd never put himself in a position of such vulnerability again.

So, the words were not said. And the silence between them continued. Elbereth only knew how long this deplorable state of affairs would have gone on if not for an unexpected encounter in one of the corridors of the Last Homely House one afternoon.

He was rounding a corner when he heard voices speaking in the hallway beyond. Glorfindel and Arwen's voices. He cautiously took a peek at them. They were discussing something of import judging from their serious expressions. Erestor wondered what.

"But Glorfindel—!" Arwen finally exclaimed in frustration.

"Leave it be," the captain said. "'Tis over between us."

"You do not believe that."

"It matters not what I believe. Erestor made it quite clear that whatever feelings he once held for me are no longer there."

Erestor nearly gasped when he heard his name.

"He only spoke in anger. That he approached you that morn is evidence that his regard is still present."

Glorfindel shook his head. "'Twas not love that drove him."

"If not love, then what?" Arwen demanded stubbornly.

Glorfindel sighed. "As you so sagely put it he was simply trying to mend matters between us, nothing more. I must go."

He hastened past the Elf-maiden before she could further press him. Arwen stared after him with an unlady-like scowl.

"Eavesdropping? It does not become you, Erestor."

The steward whirled around to stare into Elrohir's argent eyes. Elladan and Legolas stood behind him.

"I was not eavesdropping." he protested indignantly. "I just did not want to intrude on them so suddenly."

"And the fact that they were talking about you had nothing to do with it," Elladan commented.

Erestor glowered at the Elf-lords. "I have nothing to say to you," he growled with uncharacteristic gracelessness.

"But _I_ have something to say to you."

He groaned inwardly. Turning, he faced a rather irate Arwen. She wasted no time at all.

"We do not have to know what you said to him," she said caustically. "All we need know is that it left him so distraught, he couldn't evade a witless Orc's charge!"

"Arwen—"

"He went to you to apologize for the past. How many would have lowered themselves to do that? Certainly none as valiant and proud as one who slew a Balrog and passed through Mandos' Halls because of it!"

Elrohir placed a calming hand on his sister's shoulder.

"Peace, _muinthel_"—sister—he murmured. He glanced at a white-faced Erestor. "That Glorfindel wronged you then is undeniable," he said. "But he did try to make amends for it even if belated. We believed you would accept his effort. He did not. He obviously knew you all too well."

"He told you about us?" Erestor asked with some consternation.

"Glorfindel told us about his error in handling your youthful attachment to him," Legolas supplied. "He was truly remorseful about it, Erestor."

Color stained the counsellor's cheeks that the others should know of his past infatuation.

"I wish he had not done that," he said uncomfortably.

"We pressed him," Elladan stated. "And we could tell that he needed to talk about it. He probably needed to talk about it all these years." He regarded the flustered counsellor with sympathy. "He loved you then, do you know that? He still does."

Erestor flushed further. "So he told me," he conceded.

"But you did not believe him."

The advisor let out an irritated sigh. "As if 'tis easy to believe after all these centuries," he snorted. "He never came to me, never indicated that he felt otherwise.

"He is as proud as you are, chief steward," Elrohir said. "It was no easy thing for him to own himself wrong and admit it to you as well."

"Mayhap. But you can hardly blame me for being skeptical."

"Be that as it may, what will you now do to make amends?" Arwen asked pointedly.

"What will _I_ do—?"

"To set things right between the two of you," she said. "Glorfindel took the first step and a very big one I must say. When will you do your part?"

Erestor shrank from the idea. "This is ridiculous," he objected. "'Tis not as if I started this."

Arwen exploded. "You have both suffered for nigh on two millennia because of his ill-spoken words!" she cried vexedly. "Will you both now suffer another two thousand years because of your benighted pride?"

Erestor stared at her in shock. Never had the Elf-maid behaved so indecorously around him. A hand on his arm drew his attention once more to Elrohir.

"Is it indeed over between you?" the Elf-knight asked ever so gently.

_To be continued_…


	42. In the Silence of Our Hearts 5

_**In The Silence of Our Hearts**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
Glorfindel undid his tunic a little wearily. He was not tired in body so much as he was drained in spirit. Nothing seemed to lift them nowadays. Nothing since... He mentally shook his head. Useless to dwell on that. He shrugged off the tunic.

He started and inadvertently dropped it to the floor when Erestor entered his room without bothering to knock. For a moment, he stared at the steward, amazed at the other's lack of propriety. Erestor never behaved with anything less than utmost decorum.

"You seem to have mislaid your manners," he commented.

To his bemusement, the counsellor blushed. He'd half expected Erestor to come back with some acerbic reply.

"If I did not knock 'tis because I was uncertain that you would let me in," the steward admitted.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "And what, pray tell, was your purpose in coming here?" he inquired evenly.

Disconcerted by the captain's demeanor, Erestor nearly bolted. But he forced himself to go on. It was either that or face the four young Elves again. He could not decide which was more daunting.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally said.

"What could you possibly want to say that you did not already tell me?" Glorfindel said. The barest hint of hurt tinged his words. A flicker of pain showed in his eyes.

For the first time Erestor realized just how much Glorfindel had humbled himself in going to him that day. _He lowered himself before me, sought my forgiveness, cast aside his pride to make amends and instead of trying to understand, I hurled back his apology in his teeth_. Erestor shuddered inwardly.

"Erestor?" Glorfindel said quietly. "What is it you wish to talk about?"

The steward drew a calming breath. "I wanted to say I am sorry for the way I behaved toward you," he explained haltingly. "Before you left on patrol."

Glorfindel sighed. "You had every right to act as you did," he said. "There was just cause."

He bent down to pick up his tunic. As he did so, the stone pendant slipped out from under his shirt and hung in plain sight of the steward. Erestor's eyes homed in on it. He caught his breath. His former teacher still had it after all these millennia.

It could only mean one thing. Glorfindel had cared for him and still did. Erestor was thoroughly shaken. _He told me the truth. _

He hesitated then said: "Glorfindel, I am no longer untouched as you put it. Yet in one matter I am still as innocent as I was the day I approached you."

"What matter is this?" The Elda looked up with dulled eyes. The sight made Erestor's heart ache with regret and self-reproach.

"I have never lain with an _ellon_"—male Elf—he said, reddening slightly at making so personal an admission.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Please, Erestor, I am not blind. I have seen the company you have kept in all these many years."

Erestor swallowed hard at the pain in the other's voice. "True, but 'tis only _ellyth_ I bedded," he tightly clarified. "I could be intimate with them for there was no comparing any woman with you." Glorfindel stared at him. The tiniest spark of a response showed in his eyes. Encouraged by that reaction, Erestor plunged on. "But I could not take any Elf-male to my bed. It did not feel right." He had to pause for another deep breath. "They were not you."

Glorfindel's stare if anything grew even more intense. Erestor suddenly found it hard to breathe evenly. He shakily said: "I... I suppose I was... saving that part of myself... for you. Should... should you ever want it." He added almost inaudibly: "I love you, my lord."

For the length of a heartbeat they gazed at each other. Then, of a sudden, Glorfindel surged forward, eyes flashing with unholy brilliance. Startled, Erestor took a step backward. But before he could move any further, the Noldo had reached him, pulling him into an embrace that brooked no resistance.

Lips crashed against his possessively, ravenously. In that instant, Erestor felt as if he'd been swept back in time to when he'd been but a lovesick young Elf offering his heart to his beloved tutor. But this was nothing like that past. In this present, Glorfindel did not push him away, did not tell him to turn his fancy elsewhere. In this present, his former teacher accepted, nay, claimed his gift with breathtaking urgency. And he was claiming it in a manner that made it patently clear that there would be no turning back.

Erestor gasped as his mouth was invaded, as it had never been before. He did not resist. What he had denied every other lover he now yielded. It was simply right.

They never made it to the bed. Erestor's soon discarded robe provided all the bedding they needed on the floor upon which Glorfindel lowered him with understandable haste. He followed the steward down closely to mold their bodies together as intimately as possible.

Casting aside all the grief and regrets of two millennia past, the Elvenlord had to summon all his self-control not to give in to the irresistible urge to ravish the dark-haired counsellor and take once and for all what he had denied himself for far too long. Only the knowledge that Erestor had never lain with another male Elf kept him from taking so peremptorily that which he craved. He had caused enough hurt to the steward; he would not do so now and mar this joyous reconciliation. Glorfindel forced himself to slow down, to pleasure the other first until he was certain Erestor was ready to yield.

Erestor felt sentience desert him in the face of Glorfindel's tender onslaught. Haughtiness had no place here or reserve or self-control. He found himself writhing wantonly under the touch of possessive hands, bucking helplessly into the heat of a demanding mouth, clutching at the robe beneath him as he was delved by a questing tongue. All thoughts of decorum vanished as he gave himself up to the only Elf who'd ever held his heart.

Sheer ecstasy at the moment of their joining was sweet reward for Glorfindel's efforts. Incomparable rapture coursed through his body as he buried himself deep in Erestor's flesh. Together they moved as one, enjoying each other's pleasure, savoring the inimitable bliss of union. When Erestor hoarsely cried out his name in delight at the height of their coupling, Glorfindel knew boundless joy. And when his own release followed but a moment later, he found it the purest, most intense sensation he had ever experienced in his immortal life.

oOoOoOo

Erestor awoke in a bed not his own. Alarm might have taken him then but for the scent on the sheet that covered him. Glorfindel. He remembered what had passed the night before. They'd moved to the bed after that first joyous coupling and engaged in more loving. After centuries of denial and heartache they could not get enough of each other. It was near dawn when they finally surrendered to the pull of slumber.

He turned his head and saw the captain reclining on the lounging chair in the small enclosed terrace outside his chamber. Almost at the same time, Glorfindel happened to look at him. He smiled invitingly.

Blushing slightly, Erestor rose and pulled on the bed-robe Glorfindel had laid on the covers for him. He joined the other Elf and was at once drawn down into an intimate embrace. Tucking his head into the crook of Glorfindel's neck, he waited quietly, reluctant to break the tranquil silence of the morning.

At length, Glorfindel stirred and bent his head to take a draught of his lips. The next several minutes were spent in a spate of sweet, languorous kisses. When Glorfindel finally released his lips, Erestor sighed in contentment and gazed at him with devotion-flecked eyes. Glorfindel felt his heart swell at this evidence of the other's deep-seated affection.

The golden Elda said: "When Manwë sent me back to these shores, I wondered why he required me to serve Elrond. It seemed strange that he desired me to do this for the son of him for whom I had already given my life to save. Not that I begrudged my service here," Glorfindel smiled. "I found all that I had lost in Gondolin – friends, family, a sense of purpose. But now I realize Manwë meant for me to find my greatest reward in Elrond's home. You."

Erestor felt his throat tighten, moved by the warrior's declaration. It brought home to him just how providential fate could be given the right circumstances. Not to mention a helpful push by the Powers that be.

"You have never talked to anyone about that time in your life," he murmured. "Your passing, the Halls of Awaiting or even your return to Middle-earth. Will you not tell me at least? I would be of comfort to you, knowing what you must have suffered. Will you trust me?"

Glorfindel gazed into the feline eyes; their sea green depths were limpid with steadfast love and utter devotion. He had never cared to be so open with anyone about that period in his life – the horror, the trauma and the loneliness. But in Erestor he had found his haven from all the hurts of his long and eventful life. He knew then that it was time to unburden himself of the secrets of two ages and uncounted centuries.

And so he told him everything. Spoke of the searing agony of the Balrog's flames and the horrendous fall from Cirith Thoronath to both their ruins. Held in Erestor's comforting arms, he recounted the centuries long stay in Námo's timeless halls, thinking, reflecting, always waiting, and then his release and the terms that had secured it. An oath of service to the son of Eärendil, rebirth and the swift growth to his second majority, the return of memories and the upholding of his oath and, finally, the journey back to a vastly changed Middle-earth and his long service to Elrond from the realm of Gil-galad in Lindon to the wars in Eregion to the founding of Rivendell.

"Even then I was alone and lonely," Glorfindel quietly admitted. "Though I took many to my bed, warriors and maids alike, I never did so in love. Only once before did I give my heart but she was meant for another."

Erestor felt a pang of jealousy, which dissipated as soon as he saw the sorrow in his lover's eyes. "Who was she?" he softly asked.

"Turgon's daughter."

"Idril Celebrindal?" Erestor gasped. "Elrond's grandmother? Then your defense of her family against the Balrog was—" He stopped, astounded by the implications.

"For love of her, aye," Glorfindel said. "I could not let harm come to her or he whom she loved and still less to her only child. I counted the forfeit of my life well worth it if it thereby saved her and hers." He stroked Erestor's jaw with a slender finger. "When I returned to this life, I hoped I would know love once more. But the years passed without even a glimmer of hope and I began to believe that 'twas not my fate. Until you came along."

"I did not fully understand why I was so drawn to you. I thought 'twas but the fondness of a teacher for a most able student. But when you came to me that day and offered yourself, I knew then I had found what I had been seeking all these long years."

Erestor gazed at him with pained eyes. "If I had not been so distant when I returned from Lórien, what would you have done?" he asked in a hushed voice.

The warrior bit his lip. "I would have gone down on my knees and apologized for the hurt I caused you," he honestly replied. "And, if you had accepted it, I would have told you that my heart was yours and asked if you would still have me."

Erestor looked at him, stricken. He gave a low moan and pressed his face into the captain's neck, his body trembling.

"Erestor! What is it?" Glorfindel asked in alarm.

The steward drew away, his eyes glittering with anguish. "If I had given you that chance," he said sorrowfully. "If I had not pretended indifference, you would have been mine and I, yours long ago." He closed his eyes tightly as if to shut out all the hurt and frustration of the past.

Pain briefly limned Glorfindel's features. "Do not blame yourself. If _I_ had paused to consider the consequences of my words..." he said under his breath. "It broke my heart to break yours. But your declaration of love was my undoing. I knew that if I gave you any hope at all, you would not desist and I would then have taken your innocence. I could not do that to you, Erestor, not then. But I could have chosen a less offensive way to turn you down instead of hurting you so deeply. Forgive me, beloved."

Erestor felt his heart swell at the intimate endearment. "Nay, you were only trying to protect me in my impetuous youth," he murmured. "Had I used my wits I would have discerned your motive and not held your words against you all these centuries."

"You were young and innocent," Glorfindel protested.

"And old beyond my years as you used to tell me," Erestor reminded him. "I should never have let my anger rule me. And I rue even more my confounded pride knowing now how much you treasured the innocence I would have given you. But instead of biding my time, I spent myself in the arms of others."

Glorfindel stared at him in surprise. "What do you—?"

The steward cut him off. "'Twas my gift to you though you could not accept it at the time," he choked. "I should have kept it whole and unspoiled for you. But in my anger, I tarnished it irrevocably and now 'tis nothing more than a tawdry trinket that I have given you."

"How can you believe that?" Glorfindel exclaimed softly. "Think you that I deem your love so low? There is nothing tawdry about yourself, not your body or spirit or heart."

"But you admitted jealousy of the lovers I kept company with," Erestor said.

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, I was jealous. How could I not be? But I never thought you anything less than precious and dearer to me than all the treasures of Middle-earth. That you took no _ellon_ to your bed because of me is a wondrous surprise but the gift I desired most was your love and that you have given me, untouched, unspoiled by any other. What greater innocence can there be than that?"

Erestor gazed at him with ever deepening emotion. "If I had only known that," he whispered. "Happiness would have been ours even before this age."

Glorfindel sighed and pressed a kiss to Erestor's temple. "Ai, 'tis fruitless to dwell on the past. I would rather ponder the future. And it looks very bright now that you are mine."

Erestor's cat-like eyes glimmered with pleasure. The very glow in them spurred Glorfindel to take the next step. "_Melethron_," he said in a hushed voice, "I would bind myself to you if you would have me."

"If I would have you?" Erestor gasped in surprised delight. "I would do it tomorrow if you wished it."

Glorfindel's smile lit up his passing fair countenance. "Nay, let us wait the requisite year," he said. "I would still provide a good example for our _pin nith_."—young ones.

Erestor snorted good-humoredly. "Since when have they ever followed anyone's example, good or bad? They will do as they wish and oft be the first to do it at that."

"They are highly original," the warrior agreed with a grin. "Yet I have them to thank for this moment. Without their intervention I should never have gained you at last. They gave me a fearsome scolding after you left me that morning."

"_They_ scolded _you_?" Erestor was astonished. He had never thought the young Elves would ever have the temerity to challenge the redoubtable Elda in any way.

"Be warned. Arwen's tongue can be sharper than my best sword."

The steward chuckled. "I confess they did the same thing to me before I came to you."

Glorfindel stared at him. "Let me guess. Arwen gave you a tongue-lashing as well."

"Aye. She seems to have inherited Elrond's temper rather than Celebrían's."

"We'd best keep that in mind. And the others?"

"More persuasive than a Bree innkeeper trying to sell sour ale."

The golden-haired warrior laughed out loud at the steward's succinct portrayal of the younger Elves. "They grow ever more formidable as their years lengthen," he smiled. "May their tribe increase!"

Glossary:  
ellyth - Elf-maids  
melethron - male lover

The End

**Part 12:** Prelude to Grief. – The twins face heart-rending changes in the wake of a horrific transgression that takes place in the depths of the Misty Mountains. Rating: M


	43. Prelude to Grief 1 Atrocity

**Summary:** The twins face heart-rending changes in the wake of a horrific transgression that takes place in the depths of the Misty Mountains.

**Rating:** M for sexual content, violence and descriptions of torture

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_ by Eressë_

Chapter I: Atrocity  
Imladris, _lairë_ T.A. 2509  
Legolas looked upon Rivendell with a deep sense of foreboding. Gloom seemed to suffuse the entire vale as he had never felt it do before. Even the trees seemed to conspire with whatever calamity had struck the elven refuge, their foliage unaccountably sparse, the aromatic scent of pine mysteriously muted.

He glanced at his father, Thranduil, and brother, Brethildor. They, too, felt the difference. Their expressions were half grim, half alarmed. The evil that had befallen the Lady of Imladris had reached beyond her ruined body to strip her valley home of its lilting charm and welcoming warmth.

It was barely a month since they had received the appalling news of Celebrían's abduction by a band of Goblins and her subsequent torture in their dens. Just over two months since the unspeakable incident in the Misty Mountains. Elrond's wife had been on her way to Lothlórien for a visit to her parents. It was one of the rare sojourns wherein neither Elrond nor any of her children were able to accompany her. And Glorfindel had been away on lengthy patrol, investigating reports of brigandage northeast of Rivendell. Only Erestor and a small company of warriors had been with her.

No one had thought anything untoward could happen. There had been no recent reports of Orcs near the Redhorn Pass and once past the mountains, a company of Lórien Elves was expected to meet her and protect her the rest of the way to the Golden Wood. The ambush had been totally unexpected and the numbers of their foes chillingly large.

The Orcs had scattered her escort through sheer brute force, wounding or killing several warriors. Before the Elven soldiers could regroup, the Goblins had borne Celebrían away. Erestor was among the grievously injured but despite a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder and multiple gashes, the steward had had the presence of mind to order his men to track the Orcs as far as they were able while he saw to the care of the other wounded. Upon fulfillment of his orders, the remnants of Celebrían's escort hastened back to Rivendell and informed Elrond of her abduction.

Within hours of learning of his wife's fate, Elrond had led a rescue party into Hithaeglir. There they split into small search parties, their intent to find and retrieve Rivendell's lady and not to wage war on her captors. That would come later.

Elrond had led one group, Glorfindel's second-in-command, Daurin, another and the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, the third. It was the twins who discovered their mother's whereabouts; they who rescued her from the noisome hold of her tormentors.

Elrond had sent word to Thranduil as soon as he'd dealt with his lady's erstwhile abductors. It was as much a warning to the woodland king about the increased boldness of the Hithaeglir Orcs as the exchange of news between their realms.

Thranduil had not wasted any time arranging to go to Rivendell at once. Naturally, Legolas had insisted on coming along. Brethildor, on the other hand, led the well-armed troop that escorted them to the elven refuge. It was fortunate they had been warned by Elrond. They easily beat off a band of marauding Goblins as they descended the Misty Mountains from the High Pass. At the feet of the great range, they were met by Glorfindel and a band of soldiers. Guarded by so formidable a company, the rest of their journey was made without incident.

Remembering his own mother's tragedy, Legolas wondered worriedly how his friends were coping with Celebrían's misfortune. The pall that blanketed Imladris was disturbing to say the least.

They were greeted by Elrond and Elladan at the doors of the Last Homely House. Arwen was attending to her mother at the moment. Elrohir was nowhere in sight. Legolas stifled his impulse to inquire about the younger twin and followed the others as Elrond led the way to his bedchamber. They learned that they had missed Celebrían's parents, Celeborn and Galadriel, by just a day. The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had arrived in Imladris a scant three weeks after word of their daughter's rescue reached them, riding long and hard and fast with scarcely a pause for rest on the way. They'd stayed for a sennight before returning to Lórien; times were such that even grieving parents could not turn their backs on their duties and responsibilities overlong.

The bedchamber was awash with light, every window left wide open to let in fresh air and sunshine. Elladan softly explained that it was necessary since dark stillness only recalled to his mother the deeps of the orkish den where she had been kept captive for nigh a week. The nights were the worst for even the light from several lamps and candles was oft not sufficient to keep her fears at bay.

Arwen and her former nurse, Almáriel, had just finished sponging Celebrían and had tenderly dressed her in fresh bed-clothing. The Lady of Imladris lay cocooned in warm covers upon the wide bed she shared with Elrond. She was asleep, lulled into dreamless slumber by the strong draught her husband had prepared for her.

The Mirkwood Elves gazed at her in mingled horror and pity. Her glorious silver tresses were no more. Entire plains of bare, scarred scalp showed through the thinned locks. One side of her face was rough with abrasions and her lower lip was covered with scabs where she had bitten down hard in her extreme pain. Her gown and blanket hid a multitude of atrocities rendered upon her slender body. Her lamentably slow healing was as much evidence of the trauma she had experienced as it was of her body's failing strength.

"Sweet Eru! What in Arda did those scum do to her?" Legolas heard his brother mutter in shock.

Afterwards, Elrond led his guests to his study where Glorfindel and Erestor soon joined them, Erestor noticeably limping. With help from his son and chief steward, Elrond recounted to them all that his dear wife had endured.

The Orcs had easily recognized her, of course. No one could mistake the silver beauty of Rivendell's mistress for any other. And so they had made her pay for being Elrond's wife. They had wreaked all their rage and malice against the Imladrin lord upon his hapless lady. And when each stage of torture rendered her unconscious, they cruelly brought her back to awareness with a chilly dousing of foul water from the nether regions of their underground realm.

It had started with whips. For two whole days they had scourged her intermittently. When she would faint, her body a mass of welts and bruises, they stopped only to forcibly revive her for another round. On the third or fourth day of her captivity, her nails had been pulled out one by one from her fingers and toes, the exposed and excruciatingly tender nail beds then trod upon or tweaked or bitten until she was hoarse from screaming.

For added sport, they had hauled her wounded form from chamber to chamber, dragging her by her hair, yanking whole handfuls out in the process, leaving her with a bloody patchwork of a scalp. At last, when they'd finally tired of their game, they'd inflicted the worst torment of all.

They'd brought forth one of their rough-hewn clubs and, in a ghastly parody of the sexual act, had impaled her repeatedly with the filthy instrument until she bled profusely. Not content with the damage they'd done to her now torn body, they'd forced her awake then flipped her roughly onto her stomach. And rammed the club up her backside until her thighs ran crimson with her blood.

It was this horrific scene the twins had come upon, guided to the torture chamber by their mother's agonized shrieks. It was a testament to the brethren's self-control that they had not fallen upon her torturers in foolhardy rage. Instead, they had lured the majority of the Orcs to another cave where their waiting warriors had sealed in the creatures with a rockslide.

Knowing the trapped Orcs would eventually dig their way out, they swiftly returned to the main chamber and slaughtered the guards. In the melee, one Orc sought to render their rescue attempt vain by slaying the captive Elf-lady. Elrohir had opened its entrails with one savage stroke and the most it had done was wound Celebrían.

The twins had perforce borne their mother halfway down the mountain before they were able to stop and inspect her injuries. It was only then that they discovered that the wound dealt her bore poison. But ever aware of the possibility of pursuit, they were forced to continue their flight. By the time they met up with the other search parties at the feet of Hithaeglir, her injuries had festered, infection made possible by her severe weakening. And the poison had seeped into the flesh and muscles around her right shoulder causing great pain to her neck and right upper arm and breast.

Elrond had managed to calm down enough to bring his wife home and treat her, drawing as much of the poison from her body as he could and tenderly administering to her many wounds. The worst had been the damage inflicted upon her lower body. He'd been forced to cut her open to cleanse her innards; her delicate flesh had been riddled with splinters and infiltrated with the filth of the unclean club. He'd barely managed to hold in his fury until he'd finished sewing up the incisions.

Then he'd let it out in full. With Rivendell's fiercest warriors at his command, he and the twins had returned to the Orcs' hold. They'd lured the creatures from their den then driven them into a large deep pit they'd filled with kindling and dry wood. Elrond himself had thrown in the burning faggot that set the wood afire. All around the rim of the delved inferno, the Imladrin Elves had prevented the Orcs from clambering out by forcing them back at spear or sword point.

"I never thought I would so delight in the screams of creatures being roasted alive or enjoy the stench of burning flesh," Elrond said, steel limning his deceptively soft voice. "But Elbereth help me, I did."

Thranduil shook his head. "None can blame you, Elrond," he pointed out. "What they did to Celebrían..." He scowled in remembered rage. "Had those brigands done the same to my Ithilwen, I would have been as ruthless with them. Mayhap even more." He looked at Glorfindel and Erestor. "I think we'd best discuss how to protect our people from these creatures. They are grown over-bold to have dared abduct the Lady of Imladris."

Erestor said: "It was a well-planned ambush. They knew our route and that our numbers were not great. And they struck when we least expected it."

"Then they are no longer as witless as we thought," Brethildor remarked with a concerned frown.

"They are no longer leaderless," Glorfindel pointed out. "We suspect that the Necromancer may have had a hand in this."

"Accursed sorcerer," Thranduil scowled. "What has the White Council decided about Dol Guldur?"

Elrond replied: "We have reason to believe the Dark Lord may be taking shape once more. But we have no proof. And, admittedly, our attention has been drawn to the south and the calamities there. Since Osgiliath's fall, there has been no surcease of troubles upon Gondor. Of late, the Steward Cirion has been barely holding the line at Anduin against the Balchoth." He looked at Brethildor. "Have you encountered these men?"

The darkling prince said: "Only infrequently. They seem more interested in the southern kingdom than in our realm."

"That is not surprising if Dol Guldur is behind their aggression," Glorfindel said. "Gondor is the only remaining bastion of the Dúnedain. If the Necromancer is indeed Sauron returned, he would desire the destruction of the last of the Númenoreans in Middle-earth. He will not have forgotten Elendil's part in his defeat in the last age."

At this point, Elrond and Thranduil began to discuss in detail the mutual defense of their respective realms. Ordinarily interested in such matters, Legolas now found himself restless instead. The continued absence of a certain Elf greatly bothered him.

He glanced at Elladan and caught his eye. "Where is Elrohir?" he quietly asked.

The older twin sighed. "In the drill yard spending himself in archery. At other times 'tis swordplay or wrestling. 'Tis his way of venting his anger over what happened to _Nana_."

Legolas eyed his friend compassionately. "And you?"

Elladan shook his head. "Elrohir has always felt more deeply about everything than anyone else. I'd often thought it a failing that I do not feel as profoundly as he does but now I am grateful. I, too, am enraged by what they did to her but it does not consume me as it does him." He smiled wanly at Legolas. "Go to him, _meldiren_. He would welcome your comfort."

Legolas rose at once and left the study.

He found Elrohir as Elladan had said. It was apparent he'd been at it for hours though he continued to hit his marks with admirable precision. The evidence of excessive exertion showed itself in the weary cant of his shoulders, the uncharacteristic lassitude of his movements, the tendrils of black silk that clung to his sweat-sheened cheeks and neck. Only his expression betrayed the fires of rage within that refused to be quenched even by incessant activity. The younger twin let loose arrow after arrow, his entire mind so focused on the task that he did not even note Legolas' appearance. It was only when he'd emptied his quiver yet again and made to retrieve his arrows that he sensed the presence of another.

"Legolas!" he softly exclaimed.

A moment later, he was caught in the balming embrace of his friend. They remained thus for a while, the younger twin unable to express his deep-seated emotions, the Mirkwood prince eager to sooth him as much as he could. Finally, Elrohir sighed and drew away a little.

"'Tis good of you to come," he whispered, grey eyes suspiciously bright.

"As you once succored me in my grief, so am I here for you," Legolas said. He gestured to a bench by the yard. "From the looks of it, you have been at this far longer than is wise, _gwador_. Come, take some rest."

Elrohir acceded to the suggestion and allowed the prince to lead him to the bench. He sank down carelessly, none of his usual grace apparent. Legolas eyed him with concern. The younger twin was spent beyond reason.

"How often do you wear yourself out like this?" he asked anxiously.

Elrohir dully replied: "As often as she dreams."

"What do you mean?"

Listless pewter pools met his gaze. "She screams in her sleep. She can find no respite even in slumber, day or night. Father has had to resort to his most potent draughts that she may rest." A spark of feeling lit in the Elf-knight's eyes. "You can feel her pain and terror when she screams. I – I cannot bear to hear her thus and not go out and slaughter as many Goblins as I can find. And so I do whatever I can to still my rage."

Legolas blew his breath out, shocked at his friend's state of being. He pulled the Elf-knight into the curve of a bracing arm, letting him rest his weary head against his shoulder, stroking the damp tresses comfortingly.

"Ai, what wrong has your mother ever done that this should happen to her?" he murmured.

"Evil knows no reason or pity," Elrohir softly answered. "It only seeks to hurt or corrupt or destroy." To this Legolas could provide no reply. He fell silent and let his stroking hand convey his sympathy and support.

After a few minutes, Elrohir asked: "How long will you stay?"

"Father must return within a fortnight," Legolas said. "He cannot entrust Mirkwood to Melthoron just yet. Not in these days. My brother is still too intemperate to rule with wisdom." He glanced at Elrohir. The warrior nodded in acknowledgement but his tightened lips betrayed his disappointment. Legolas slipped his fingers beneath the twin's chin and compelled him to look at him. "_Adar_ must leave but I will stay through the winter if I must. I will stay for as long as you need me."

A ghost of a smile appeared on the Elf-knight's lips. His eyes gleamed gratefully. Legolas pulled him back into his consoling embrace.

Glossary:  
lairë - Quenya for summer  
Hithaeglir – the Misty Mountains  
sennight - abbreviation of seven nights; defunct Middle English term for a week  
Nana - Mama  
meldiren - my friend  
gwador - sworn brother

_To be continued_…


	44. Prelude to Grief 2 Plight

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Plight  
Legolas soon discovered for himself what Elrohir meant regarding his mother's frightful dreams. In the days that followed, the peace of Elrond's house was shattered now and anon by the harrowing outbursts of his wife. It did not matter if the horrors came to her in her sleep or waking dreams, her screams were the same. Agonized, terrified and almost beyond bearing.

'Tis no wonder that Elrohir cannot endure it, Legolas thought the third night of his visit as he lay abed, listening to the shrieks that resounded down the corridor and the hurried tread of feet as the twins and Arwen hastened to help their father.

After the disturbing sounds faded and quiet returned, he reckoned that the brethren might want some company. Throwing on a bed-robe, he slipped out of his room and made his way to Elrond's bedchamber. As he neared it, he saw Elrohir come out and race down the stairs as if demons snipped at his heels. Legolas hurried after him, following him out into the still night as the younger twin headed for the Bruinen.

To his shock, the Elf-knight dove fully clothed into the chill waters of the river and began to swim hardily against the current towards the cascades. Legolas realized that the twin needed to spend his pent-up rage. To head him off, the archer ran along the banks, keeping a weather eye on the sleek form of his friend as it cut rapidly through the coursing waters.

He reached the falls just scant seconds before Elrohir.

The Elf-warrior leadenly clambered up the steep banks, his sopping wet clothes clinging to his body. He was startled when Legolas grabbed him by the arm and helped him the rest of the way up. Wordlessly, the prince stripped the twin of his sodden shirt and wrapped his robe around him. Though Elrohir seemed unaffected by the cold water or brisk night breeze, Legolas was not taking any chances. The steady drain on his friend's spirit could very well render him vulnerable to the elements and make him susceptible to the ailments that plagued the mortal races. The blood of Men flowed through Elrohir's veins. If his mother, a pureblooded _Edhel_, had been so weakened that she became prone to infection, what more her Half-elven son?

"Here, rest and compose yourself before we return," he murmured, urging the warrior to sit down upon the springy grass.

Elrohir mutely complied and Legolas sank down beside him. The Elf-knight folded his arms upon his pulled up knees and buried his face in them. The Mirkwood prince could only stroke his back soothingly. At length, Elrohir raised his head and looked at him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Legolas shook his head, feeling quite useless. "If only I could do more..."

The twin laid a clammy hand on his arm. "'Tis enough that you followed me here," he said. "You did not have to."

The archer covered the chilled hand with his own warm palm. "I could not let you face this alone." He reached up and brushed strands of raven hair from Elrohir's face. "Let us go back. You should get into dry clothes."

The warrior nodded and they rose to their feet. Legolas accompanied him all the way to the door of his room.

oOoOoOo

Thranduil and Brethildor departed after a fortnight, shaken by what they had witnessed and determined that no such fate would befall any of their own people. But as he had promised Elrohir, Legolas stayed on. Keeping company with the twins, he sought to return the care and compassion they'd shown him when he'd faced the loss of his own mother more than a thousand years earlier. He was particularly attentive to Elrohir for he worried about the younger twin's dark moods and sudden bouts of fury. It recalled to him his own erratic behavior when his mother passed away. And so he kept an eye on his friend, cajoled him out of his worrisome silences, did his best to keep him from over expending himself in physical activities and generally just stayed close by to lend a sympathetic ear should Elrohir need it.

In this fashion did summer pass into autumn. Slowly, Celebrían's fearsome dreams declined until several days would pass in between attacks. After a few quiet weeks, her family dared to hope that they had weathered the worst and could look forward at last to her healing.

But barely a week after the twins' begetting day, on a markedly crisp afternoon, Celebrían lost the battle anew and nearly her own life as well. Only Arwen's vigilance prevented a second tragedy from happening.

Always anxious about her mother's state of mind, she went to her parents' room to look in on her. She came upon an empty chamber with its door not only ajar but also askew as if it had been slammed violently against the wall. On the floor were a shattered vase, torn pillows and the remnants of the silk sheet that had covered Celebrían. All the signs pointed to a panicked exit by Rivendell's lady. Fearing the worst, the Elf-maid sounded the alarm and soon the entire household was out looking for her.

Lindir discovered her teetering perilously on the highest roof of the Last Homely House. Caught in a waking nightmare, Elrond's wife had believed herself in the clutches of the Orcs once more. Unable to extricate herself from the hellish dreamscape into which she had inadvertently ventured, she had raced down the corridor from her bedchamber and scurried out one of the high windows onto the rooftop outside. She'd then struggled up the steep gabled slope in an apparent attempt to elude her phantom pursuers.

A concerted and dangerous effort ensued amongst the housemaster, Elrond, his sons, Legolas and Glorfindel as they attempted to fetch her from her precarious perch. They slowly converged on her position from different directions to cut off any escape on her part but approached her as carefully as possible to avoid alarming her unduly. For though she was trapped in a waking dream she seemed aware of movement around her and flinched like a frightened doe at every imagined assault. Much like Legolas when he attacked me after his mother's death, Elrohir grimly recalled.

Closest in distance to her, he cautiously reached out to grasp her arm as she swayed dazedly on the edge of the roof. But just then, Celebrían turned her head and saw him. Thinking him one of her tormentors, she screamed and frantically tried to evade his reaching hand. The motion cost the lady her footing and she stumbled, toppling over the elaborately carved eaves.

While the Elves far below cried out in horror, Elrohir frantically launched himself at her, grabbing her flailing arm with one hand and just barely managing to catch at the edge of the roof with the other.

"Elrohir!" Legolas desperately scrambled to get to his friend.

The younger twin winced as the ornate carvings bit into his palm; blood oozed out of the deep cut and down his wrist. But gritting his teeth, he doggedly hung on. He felt hands grab at him and he looked up into Legolas' eyes. A moment later, Glorfindel joined the prince and together they relieved Elrohir of his excruciating grip on the roof edge. However, they found it next to impossible to pull him up while Celebrían twisted and struggled violently in his grip; his hold on her wrist was already direly tenuous.

Meanwhile, Elrond and Elladan had swung down to a ledge below the dangling pair.

"_Gwanneth_! Let her go!" Elrond shouted to his younger son.

A glance down assured the Elf-knight that it was indeed safe to release his hold on his terrified mother and he let her drop into his father and brother's waiting arms. Legolas and Glorfindel quickly hauled him to safety.

From the ledge, Elrond gently passed his now awakened lady to Lindir who'd climbed onto the balcony directly beneath them. And then he and Elladan clambered down in her wake.

Minutes later, a shaken group of Elves gathered in the upper-floor corridor where a white-faced Elrond cradled his weeping wife protectively, whispering soothing words in between gentle kisses to her silver crown. Finally, when she quieted a bit, he tenderly lifted her in his arms and bore her back to their bedchamber.

Legolas swiftly turned his attention to the twins and Arwen. The three siblings held to each other for mutual comfort. But there was a glimmer of something else in Elrohir's countenance that even Elladan did not see, immersed as he was in his own shock and distress. At length, Elladan murmured something to Arwen and his sister nodded. After tearfully hugging Elrohir again, she allowed the older twin to bring her to her room.

Legolas stepped to Elrohir's side and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. The Elf-knight glanced at him then shivered once. Legolas noticed the crimson stains on his right sleeve and recalled Elrohir's wound. He reached for the bleeding fist.

"You are hurt," he murmured.

"'Tis no more than a scratch," Elrohir said dismissively. He swallowed convulsively.

Legolas peered at him intently. "What is wrong?"

The twin's mouth tightened. And then he looked at his friend, eyes glittering with daunting emotion.

"I never thought I would say this but.." he heaved a shuddering breath. "Your mother was more fortunate than mine, Calenlass."

"Elrohir!"

"She is at peace within the Halls of Awaiting, her spirit whole. But my _naneth_—" He broke off, Legolas' upset expression registering. "Forgive me, that was uncalled for. I—"

"Nay, I understand," Legolas quietly said. "You are distraught after what has just happened. But take heart, _gwador_. Your mother is safe once more and in your father's care."

Elrohir shook his head. "I fear this is not the whole of it," he said. "I sense worse to come. I know not if my forebodings are true but if they are..."

"What forebodings?" Legolas asked with a pang of apprehension.

"More evil. More sorrow. For all of us." He suddenly pulled away and punched the wall with his wounded fist, leaving a scarlet smear on the pale panel. Legolas moved quickly to shield him from the others' startled stares.

"I hate them," Elrohir whispered harshly. "I hate them for what they did to her. And I hate them for what this has done to me."

"What do you mean?" Legolas queried frowningly.

Elrohir cast him a haunted look. "I relished watching them roast alive," he said in a hushed voice. "I felt such joy at hearing their screams and seeing their agony. I understand now why you behaved thusly against the men who slew your mother. 'Tis all I want to do now. To kill more Orcs and all the other abominations Sauron and his ilk have foisted on Arda." He shuddered visibly. "It burns inside me, Calenlass, this need, this lust for their blood. I can no longer hold it in."

"What do you plan to do?" Legolas asked worriedly.

For a moment there was only silence. And then the younger twin straightened up and turned to face his friend.

"I will hunt Orc and all manner of evil creatures," he grimly said.

Legolas stared at him in alarm. "You cannot go alone, Elrohir!" he exclaimed. "'Twould be madness!"

"I will not be alone. Elladan will go where I go. His rage may not be as apparent as mine but he, too, seeks to avenge _Naneth_."

"But to what end? 'Tis a perilous quest you would undertake."

"Aye, but if we could rid our lands of even a fraction of these creatures and spare others our mother's torment, it will be well worth the danger. "

"When—?"

"Tomorrow, at first light."

Legolas was aghast. "What? Surely you jest!"

The Elf-knight's eyes gleamed with murderous intent. "I cannot wait," he growled. "If I do not do this soonest I will explode."

Legolas regarded him anxiously. The twilight eyes did not lose any of their repressed fury or implacable determination. The prince knew there would be no changing the warrior's mind. He swiftly came to a decision.

"Then I will go with you," he said.

Elrohir, surprised, objected. "'Tis not your fight."

"If it is your fight, then 'tis mine as well," the prince retorted. "I will join you."

Elrohir stared at him for a spell, moved by his loyalty. And then he leaned into his friend's arms, shaking visibly as his volatile feelings overcame him once more. Legolas held him tightly, allowing all his concern and affection wash over the younger twin that he may find some modicum of tranquility even for a while.

oOoOoOo

The three of them left at dawn, racing into the rosy light of the newly awakened day. Elrond and Arwen watched them depart with heavy hearts. Behind them stood the rest of the immediate household. Not an Elf present did not feel heartsick at their going. Who knew what would come of this quest for vengeance?

Glorfindel quietly said to Elrond: "I will go after them should they fail to return come winter."

Elrond sighed disconsolately. "I do not fear so much for my sons' safety as for their peace of mind," he murmured. "This will not end here. Their thirst for vengeance will not abate so swiftly. Elrohir's especially."

"Elladan will restrain him, _Ada_"—Papa—Arwen said soothingly. "As will Legolas."

Elrond nodded slightly. "I hope they do. Ai, our ever valiant Elf-knight. Would that he were as even-tempered as Elladan."

"But then he would not be our Elrohir," Arwen softly said.

Elrond smiled faintly. "Nay, he would not," he agreed.

Glossary:  
gwanneth – younger twin  
gwador – sworn brother

_To be continued_…

_Author Unknown:_ Thank you, whoever you are. Your reviews truly hearten me. I hope you will continue to enjoy this series.  
_Jinx:_ Thank you for coming out of lurkdom to review. It's very much appreciated. As to when Legolas gets a clue - suffice to say it's going to take much longer than you probably expect or hope for.  
_Tania:_ Thank you so much! The twins are my favorite characters, too, with Elrohir having a slight edge over Elladan. Legolas comes a close second to them and then Glorfindel and, believe it or not, Imrahil.


	45. Prelude to Grief 3 Retribution

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III: Retribution  
Foothills of Hithaeglir, _Ringarë_ T.A. 2509  
It was too good to be true. The Orcs smacked their twisted lips in anticipation as they watched the lithe figure pick its way amongst the craggy foothills of the Misty Mountains. A lone Elf was a rarity in these parts. And not just any Elf but one of the hated Peredhil. There was no doubt about the identity of this traveler. The raven hair, the steely grey eyes. And a countenance and form like no other. Fair and lean as the Firstborn yet possessed of a subdued earthiness and subtle brawn reminiscent of Men.

They did not know why he was alone in so perilous a place. But they were not about to complain. He would give them good sport, this son of the Lord of Rivendell. He would fight until the very end, of that they were certain; they would enjoy trying to break him if they could.

They waited with bated breath as he neared their position.

But just as they were poised to pounce, he stopped, looked pointedly their way, then turned and raced in the opposite direction. Howling in fury that their intended prey might yet escape them, the Orcs erupted from their hiding places and pursued him.

He was fleet-footed, this Peredhel. Fleeter than any Elf they'd yet encountered. But there were many of them, about fifty in all. They began to spread out, meaning to surround their quarry before he should gain the concealing forests beyond. To their surprise, however, the Elf turned and headed back towards the foothills.

Further into the hillocks he fled until he was sprinting down a narrow cleft. The Goblins gnashed their teeth with glee. Foolish Elf! They had him now. There was no way out of this passageway.

As they expected, he came up against a wall of solid rock. He spun around and eyed his pursuers, the twilight pools glittering warningly. The Orcs came to a halt several feet away from him. Something about this Elf unsettled them.

He showed no fear at all. Despite being trapped against an unyielding rock face, hemmed in by the cleft's high ridges and faced with a band of Orcs intent on his ruination, the Peredhel did not seem the least bit afraid. A number of the more quick-witted of the Orcs wondered whether it was sheer courage or mere bravado that helped him maintain his eerie calm.

A few goblins in the front lost their patience and hurled themselves at their victim. Moments later, their heads rolled on the dusty ground. The Elf had drawn his sword and decapitated them with wicked speed and dexterity. And still the steely eyes regarded them with cool contempt.

For several heartbeats the Orcs did not move, shocked by his audacity in the face of their superior numbers. Then they bunched together. This Elf was cunning and highly skilled. Best to rush him en masse and give him little room to wield his deadly sword. Moving as one, they surged forward.

High above the advancing Goblins, something dark snapped out, billowed and dropped down upon them. Suddenly, the Orcs found themselves hopelessly tangled in a net woven from _hithlain_, the material of which the soft but surprisingly strong rope of the Golden Wood was made. Those that had managed to elude the net's embrace were swiftly cut down by a volley of arrows from above.

The hunters had become the prey.

Elrohir, his lips curled into a feral smile, advanced upon the snarling, heaving mass of Orcs, sword in hand. An instant later, Elladan and Legolas dropped down from the ridges and joined him, their lethal blades unsheathed. The cleft echoed with screams of pain and fear as the Elves fell upon their trapped foes with savage precision. It was a slaughter, pure and simple.

oOoOoOo

Legolas leaned against the trunk of the great oak under which he reclined. Thank the Powers he'd been able to wash off all the gore and grime though it had taken an abominably long time to vanquish the stench of dead and dying Orcs. He wondered how much longer they would continue thusly.

They had camped by a rushing stream within a day's journey from the feet of Hithaeglir. First refreshing themselves in the stream, they'd then set about securing the site. While Elladan tended to their horses, Elrohir had built a goodly fire, which was more a deterrent against fell beasts than a means of warmth for the three Elves. After gathering enough wood for their needs, Legolas had settled himself beneath the oak and let his thoughts follow their appointed path. He considered their bleak surroundings, most trees stripped bare of their foliage, the grass withered by the cold.

The chill of winter was already in the air. Soon, frost would cloak the land with its icy mantle and even the orcs would retreat into their dank and dreary dens. He let out a weary breath.

Nearly three months had he journeyed with the twins, scouring the mountains and forests for Goblins; luring, trapping and slaying all they could discover with frightening efficiency. He'd never realized how creative the brothers could be in the killing-arts. Or how brutal and pitiless. It was difficult to reconcile the ruthless hunters they had become with the compassionate friends he'd long known.

As always, Elrohir was the more intense, the more coldly determined of the two. It was he who more oft than not served as bait for the snares they set, he who took the greatest risks in every encounter with Orcs, trolls and even human outlaws. And when his fearsome rage was unleashed, it was he who showed the least mercy to their foes, taking no prisoners but sending them all to their untimely ends.

Legolas turned his regard to the brethren. Elladan was busy currying his steed. Elrohir, on the other hand, sat by the fire, staring intently into the flames. The fiery glow cast a golden sheen upon his countenance, making him look much younger and more innocent than he was. Legolas felt a twinge of regret.

Fate had dealt his friends a cruel hand. Elrohir had been right. Legolas' mother was the more fortunate; she was at peace as Celebrían was not. And as for himself... True, he had suffered through the death of Ithilwen and all the guilt and anger that had followed. But the twins had to endure a greater torment. There was no hope of closure for them while their mother continued to relive the torment of her captivity. Nor was there a means of purging the emotions that haunted them; not when they could see and hear and sense Celebrían's incessant pain and terror. Once I mourned my mother's passing, I was able to move on, the prince mused. But they...

It occurred to him then that many years would pass before Elrond's sons would be able to relinquish their anger and desire for retribution. If they ever managed to do so at all. A shiver coursed through his limbs. He did not want that to happen. He did not wish for bitterness and hatred to have sway over them to the exclusion of all other feelings.

Not Elladan though, he thought. The older twin would weather this eventually and come out relatively unscathed. Always the less passionate of the brethren, he would not let this consume him.

Elrohir was a different matter. The Elf-knight was deeply passionate about the people and things he cared for. Once committed to a person or a cause, he rarely if ever swerved from the course he'd chosen. It was both a virtue and a bane. But for those he loved and who in turn loved him, it was a much treasured blessing.

Nevertheless, it was this trait that might yet lead his friend to ruin and this Legolas refused to allow to happen. Come what may, he had to help Elrohir find the delicate balance that would keep him from blindly pursuing this perilous quest. _Starting now_.

He rose and joined the younger twin by the fire. Elrohir glanced at him and smiled wanly. Legolas placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Winter is upon us," he said. "'Tis time we returned to Imladris and time you rejoined your family." When Elrohir made no reply, he pointed out: "Even the Orcs will return to their holes to wait out the cold. Would you take so great a chance as to follow them into their dens just to destroy them? 'Twould be folly, _gwador_."—sworn brother.

"Legolas is right," Elladan said as he came to them and sat to face his brother. "We cannot do more in this season. And besides, _Adar_"— Father—"expected us to return ere winter set in. Would you have Glorfindel come searching for us?"

Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, I would not trouble him and with Erestor still on the mend." He looked from Elladan to Legolas. "We will return. There is nothing more to do here for now."

Legolas narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "For now? Elrohir, surely you do not mean to do this again. Promise me you will not."

"I cannot, Calenlass," Elrohir regretfully said. "If _Nana_ does not improve..." He turned unseeing eyes into the gathering darkness beyond their camp. "I know not what I will do. Not yet."

Elladan reached out and clasped his hand. "I am of the same mind, brother," he stated. "If she fails to recover, we will do what we must. Together."

Legolas sighed in frustration. "And will you forget all else in this quest?" he demanded. "What of your father and Arwen? Would you forsake them to fear and loneliness?"

Elrohir turned a sad countenance upon him. "Better to leave them than subject them to our black moods. 'Tis not only you who cringes at my demeanor."

Legolas flinched at the knowing words. He had tried to conceal his discomfort with the Elf-knight's behavior. He'd thought he had managed it. But now it was apparent he had not.

"I am sorry," he said. "I did not mean to—"

"_Avo_"—Don't—Elrohir cut him off. "'Tis natural for you to be discomposed by how I have acted and what I have done."

"By what we have both done," Elladan corrected. "We have long seen your unease, Legolas. And we understand and accept. Yet you have stayed by us despite everything. For that you have our most profound gratitude."

Legolas could not help blushing at the older twin's heartfelt pronouncement. Elladan did not speak thusly to him as often as Elrohir. That he now did so indicated his deep appreciation of Legolas' deeds.

"What think you of our course now?" Elrohir softly asked. "Will this be the last we shall see of you for a while?"

Legolas stared at him, disconcerted by the question. They knew he disapproved of their decision and were expecting him to withdraw from their company for a spell. He pondered the situation for several minutes. Neither brother attempted to press him for an answer.

"I do not wholly agree with you," he finally said. "But I will join you whenever I can. Come what may, you are still my friends and I do not care to forego your company, so precious is it to me." At their relieved smiles, he added: "I only implore you not to let your anger rule you. While your mother's suffering is great and demands vengeance, I beg of you, do not let it taint your lives. She would not desire that." He glanced at Elladan then gazed at Elrohir, letting his concern shine clearly in his eyes. "I do not desire that."

The Elf-knight regarded him affectionately before replying. "You are surely the Powers' gift to us that you should counsel us now with such tender wisdom," he said, causing the prince's cheeks to color anew. "Rest assured, we will heed your words, Calenlass."

Legolas felt some relief at the younger twin's reply. It did not allay all his fears but, for the present, it was enough.

Glossary:  
Ringarë – Quenya for December  
Hithaeglir – the Misty Mountains  
Peredhil (sing. Peredhel) – Half-elves/Half-elven  
Nana - Mama

_To be continued_…


	46. Prelude to Grief 4 Broken

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV: Broken  
Imladris, _hrivë_  
Their return was marked by great joy and vast relief. It seemed every member of the household and most of the valley's warriors had turned out to greet them. Most wondrous of all, Celebrían joined her husband and daughter in welcoming them home. The three stared at her in visceral appreciation. Her hair had grown back and regained some of its former luster. And the scars that had despoiled her face were no more, her shimmering beauty readily apparent once again. She bestowed a tender smile on the twins and their Mirkwood friend, enfolded each son in a loving embrace, placed a warm hand upon Legolas' cheek and even went so far as to gently chide them for departing so precipitously with nary a word of farewell to her. It heartened her sons to see her so seemingly recovered. Mayhap their mother would finally be whole once more.

But on second glance, she seemed as brittle as sugar pane. Her coloring had always made her seem ethereal but now she seemed little more than a will-o'-the-wisp. And behind her sparkling eyes and beaming lips lurked traces of her erstwhile distress. It roused the twins' forebodings anew.

However, as the days went by, they strove to bring her naught but happiness and contentment while in their presence. They sought to please her in all things even if it meant joining her in the most unlikely of activities. Thus, the inhabitants of the Last Homely House were treated to the astonishing sight of Elrond's virile sons industriously baking nut breads and sweet cakes alongside their mother and sister or patiently learning the finer points of embroidery under Celebrían's critical eye. Not even the prospect of helping her care for her prize roses by winter's end fazed them if by doing as she bid they could elicit her stunning smile. Naturally, they did not allow Legolas to escape taking part in their toils and the Mirkwood prince quickly found himself sunk in placid domesticity, will he, nill he.

On occasion she would demand that all three regale her with tales of their adventures. They readily humored her but took care to leave out anything that might recall to her the dark days of her hideous captivity. And always the brethren kept a close watch on her, praying fervently that their fears be proved unfounded.

Their prayers seemed answered as December came to an end and nothing untoward occurred. The days passed without incident, the nights in peaceful silence. She was even merry enough to join them in their whimsical winter games, hurling icy missiles at a spuriously indignant Elrond and rolling in the snow with her delighted children. It seemed all so normal that they all to an Elf came to believe that she had found the wherewithal to start healing.

But as December flowed into January, her spirits began to droop. She became withdrawn once more and would start or flinch at any sudden movement no matter how slight. Her fear of the dark returned in full, as did her nightmares and her screams. Worst of all, she soon turned violent, oft striking back at Elrond or the twins when they attempted to aid her. Arwen was all but forbidden to approach her alone.

They realized then how thoroughly she had fooled them all even her husband who knew her so well. Out of love for them, in her reluctance to continue burdening them with her troubles, she had put on the act of her life. But the strain of keeping up such a masterful charade had proved too great a drain on her already frail spirit. Now she was paying the price in full.

A shroud of apprehension settled once more upon the family. It was becoming patently clear. There would be no miracle for her or them.

The end came with resounding anguish.

oOoOoOo

Elrond smiled indulgently as he observed Glorfindel and Erestor from his bedroom window one lazy afternoon near the end of January. The two had gone for a stroll in the snow-covered gardens, the captain solicitously helping the steward negotiate the downward slope that led to the orchards beyond.

Erestor no longer limped but his game leg was still prone to sudden fits of weakness and would buckle without warning especially when he traversed uneven surfaces. That wasn't surprising considering his leg had been broken in two places and his kneecap near shattered. It had taken all of Elrond's skill and then some to restore the injured limb and ensure it would mend properly.

The long recovery period had been the hardest for Erestor. For an Elf who always kept busy at one task or another, the enforced inactivity proved agonizing at worst and tedious at best. Only Glorfindel's love and attention kept him reasonably sane throughout the dull days of his confinement

Now that he could move about again, he took every opportunity to walk around, so happy was he to be freed of his necessary captivity. Glorfindel seldom strayed from his side during these periods and they were oft seen wandering about Rivendell, arm in arm, Erestor's brush with tragedy drawing them even closer to each other.

As Elrond continued to watch them, Erestor's leg chose that moment to fail him and he lurched forward awkwardly. He would have fallen but for Glorfindel's quick reflexes. The captain swiftly caught him and helped him regain his balance. Then, when Erestor leaned momentarily against him, Glorfindel snaked his hand around his mate's waist and pulled him close for a kiss so heated Elrond feared it would turn all the snow to mush.

Releasing the flustered advisor, the golden Noldo suddenly scooped him up in his arms as he would a mere Elfling and bore him back to the house. Elrond laughed softly as Erestor's vociferous protests resounded through the quiet gardens. Glorfindel paid him no mind. The captain's wicked smirk made his intentions quite clear as he carried his now red-faced spouse to their conjugal quarters.

Elrond continued to chuckle, amused by his friend's actions. It seemed that as time went by, Glorfindel's appetite for Erestor only increased. Seldom a day went by that the steward did not go about in high-collared garments to hide the flagrant marks of passion the fair captain enjoyed inflicting on him. Not that Erestor objected to such usage; he was as enthusiastic a bed-partner as Glorfindel. But he was reserved by nature and shied at the prospect of flaunting such obvious signs of his mate's considerable ardor.

"They are so happy."

Elrond turned around to stare at his wife in surprise. She was standing at his shoulder, her eyes riveted on the pair below until they disappeared from sight. Shrouded in a thick white wrap, which concealed her much too slender form, she looked almost otherworldly.

"I thought you were asleep," Elrond said, curling a welcoming arm around her.

She shook her head. "I tried to." After a moment's hesitation, she admitted: "It hurts... there."

Elrond sighed. "Lie down, _meleth_, and let me attend to you."

Biting her lip, Celebrían complied. A sad expression crossed her husband's countenance as he reached into the drawer of the bedside table for a small jar of medicinal salve. Though Celebrían's wounds had healed and the sutures were long removed, she still felt pain every once in a while either in her shoulder where the orkish poison had severely damaged the muscles around it or in her nether regions. The salve had a numbing effect and gave her respite from the lingering discomfort of her injuries.

I have healed so many yet I cannot give complete ease to my own wife, Elrond thought somewhat bitterly. He climbed onto the bed and signed to his recumbent lady to part her legs. Celebrían obeyed then closed her eyes as she always did when her husband tended to her. Gently, Elrond applied the salve to her tender flesh.

It was a service he'd performed for her for two months now. Therefore, he did not in the least expect what followed.

He had just gingerly pressed a salve-anointed finger into her when she suddenly shrieked and jerked away from him. He stared at her in alarm, noting her terrified, wide-eyed countenance.

"_Melethril_, what is wrong!" he queried anxiously, reaching for her. "Did I hurt you?"

He gasped in shock when her hand lashed out and her fingernails raked his cheek, leaving scarlet streaks in their wake. He evaded her second attack, then caught her wrists as she lunged at him, hands ready to claw and gouge him. He bore her down beneath him, using his body to pin her down.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, her voice strident with fear and loathing.

"Celebrían, 'tis me!" he shouted desperately.

When she became even more agitated, twisting, kicking and rearing in his grasp, he was compelled to resort to force. Tears stung his eyes as he did what he had never done in all the time they had known each other. He struck her hard, the sound of his palm against her cheek reverberating with harsh clarity in his ears.

She fell back limply. Almost sobbing, he cradled her in his arms, pressing his lips to her temple, brushing shaking fingers against the crimson splotch on her pale cheek. It was several minutes before she recovered her wits. She opened her eyes and stared at him dazedly, her hand reaching up to touch the unaccountable sting on the side of her face.

"What—?" She noticed the weals that marred the elegant curve of his cheek and frowned in confusion, her own pain forgotten. "Your face... How did you get hurt, _hervenn_?"—husband?—she asked, struggling to sit up.

"'Twas an accident," he lied. "Think no more about it."

She regarded him curiously and raised her hand to tenderly touch the welts. It was then that she saw his lashes. His tear-damp lashes. Her husband seldom shed tears. She could scarcely recall when she had last seen him cry. Her eyes widened as horrid recollection came back in an instant.

"I hurt you!" she cried out. "Ai, Elrond, forgive me!"

"You were not yourself," he protested.

She shuddered then slumped exhaustedly into his arms. She laid her argent head upon his shoulder.

"I was not," she wearily agreed. "I have not been myself since..." She suddenly sobbed. "I fear I will never be myself again."

"Hush, do not say that," he objected.

"But it is the truth," she said. She lifted her head and raised her hands to cup his handsome face. "Look at me, _melethron_"—lover— she whispered. "I am no longer the _elleth_ you married."

"You will always be my love," he said fiercely.

"As you will be mine," she said sadly. "Wherever I go, you will always own my heart, Elrond."

"What are you saying?" he exclaimed, fear limning his words.

She laid her head once more on his shoulder. "I am so tired, _meleth_," she murmured. "And I am little more than a burden to you and our children."

"You are no burden," he heatedly insisted. "We would gladly take care of you for eternity if need be."

"And I would repay you with pain as I did just now."

"'Twas not your intention."

"But it was my doing."

"Celebrían —"

"What will it take for you to accept the truth?" she softly asked. "For too long have we denied it. Must I turn on Arwen to prove my eroding sanity? Would you have our sons recklessly court their deaths on my account before you admit that this cannot continue?" She turned her face into his neck, seeking his strength in this dark hour and sighed as he held her snugly. She drew a shuddery breath. "My body is whole but my spirit wanes even as we speak."

Elrond closed his eyes. Defeat weighed heavily on him. The tears he had held back earlier now trickled down, their salt causing the weals on his cheek to sting. Celebrían burrowed deeper into his embrace and wept against his chest. They held tight to each other for the longest time, dreading the parting that they now knew would follow.

Glossary:  
hrivë - Quenya for winter  
meleth – love  
melethril – female lover  
elleth – Elf-maid

_To be continued_…


	47. Prelude to Grief 5 Unbidden

**AN 1:** I am well aware that fading as Tolkien intended the term has nothing to do with dying from grief or some terrible ordeal but is simply a way of describing the slow change that will eventually render an Elf invisible and intangible to the world at large. My use of the word as well as others of similar meaning – waning, failing, languishing – has more to do with the deleterious effects of pining away for a lost or unrequited love or being overwhelmed by extreme sorrow or torment. For the purposes of this series – call it creative license, AU, whatever – Elves can and do experience such a debilitating condition. Surely even as near perfect a race as the Firstborn must have chinks in their figurative armor and the ability of a passionate and immortal being to feel deeply and suffer excessively for it does not seem all that far-fetched in my humble opinion.

**AN 2:** I've toned down the explicit scene in this chapter in deference to FFnet's restrictions with regard to adult-rated material. As before, if you are of age and wish to read this chapter as it was originally written, feel free to contact me.

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V: Unbidden  
The twins, Arwen and Legolas gathered in Elrond's study, wondering why he had summoned them so suddenly that evening. They became even more curious when Glorfindel and Erestor joined them, their fair faces bleak; it was apparent that they knew what this was all about. But before they could question either counsellor, Elrond walked in.

Arwen could not help a soft exclamation of alarm at first sight of her father. Elrond looked spent and drawn, his eyes red-rimmed. And he had not bothered to don his customary robes of office. Clad in a simple tunic and breeches, he appeared more the warrior Elf of yore rather than the august Lord of Imladris.

"_Ada_, what is it?" she asked worriedly. "You look exhausted."

"Are those welts on your face?" Elladan suddenly interrupted.

Elrond sighed and raised his hand to absently touch the crimson marks on his cheek. He said: "Your mother assaulted me unwittingly."

The younger Elves gasped in shock. "_Nana_ did that to you?" Arwen said disbelievingly.

"She did not know what she was doing," Elrond explained. "She is finding it more and more difficult to cope with her fears." His gaze swept over his daughter and the twins. A spare glance at Legolas prompted the Mirkwood prince to move closer to Elrohir. "She is weary beyond bearing," he said. "There is nothing more I can do for her. She is… fading. "

His utterance cast a pall over his children. Though they had long suspected that this might come to pass, it was still difficult to actually hear the words confirming it. But they were not surprised. They had seen the signs.

She'd fought valiantly to regain her old vivaciousness. Her struggle had been painfully apparent to all. No one could doubt the courage and determination of the Lady of Imladris. But in the end, it was to no avail.

The days of torture had altered something in her. Elrond's children had seen the steady diminishment of the light in her eyes, comprehended as winter passed that things would never be the same again. That she would never be the same again.

Their mother's incandescence had dimmed, her innocence completely shattered. What was lost could not be restored.

"You have healed so many others," Arwen said imploringly. "Can you not help her?"

Elrond flinched inwardly at his daughter's plea but he carefully concealed it. He could not break down before them now.

"There is no healing for her," he quietly replied. He hesitated as he came to the meat of the matter. "At least, not here."

Elrohir jerked his head up. "Then where, _Ada_?" he demanded.

Elrond gazed at his younger son. The Elf-knight's eyes were positively ablaze with apprehension. He looked at the others, noted Arwen's wide-eyed stare, Elladan's paled features, Legolas' wondering frown. At an encouraging nod from Erestor, he drew a deep breath and replied.

"In Valinor."

His children's stunned expressions struck him like a physical blow. Glorfindel swiftly reached out a hand to steady him and he glanced at his friend gratefully.

"Nay," Elrohir objected. "You cannot mean to do this!"

"I – we have no choice."

"How could you have decided this without consulting us?"

"Elrohir—" Elladan cautioned.

"This will split our family asunder!"

"Do you think I have not considered that?" Elrond countered. At Elrohir's almost furious glare, he raised a supplicating hand. "I am loath to take this path," he said. "She and I have never been parted for longer than a few months since our binding beneath the eaves of Lórien. She is my light, _gwanneth_. My life's meaning." Elrond let out a sorrowful sigh. "But to save her I must let her go. 'Tis the price I must pay if by it she may be made whole once more. "

Elrohir bit his lip then bowed his head. "I am sorry, _Ada_," he whispered contritely. Legolas clasped his shoulder in mute sympathy.

"As am I," Elrond said quietly. "I wish I could make this easier for all of you. If only—" He visibly trembled.

Elladan looked at him with pain-filled eyes. "When will she leave?" he asked, his voice fraught with sorrow.

"Come spring," Elrond said. "'Twould be best for her not to delay her departure." He stopped, seeing their renewed shock.

"So soon?" Arwen protested. "Can she not stay a while longer?"

Elrond shook his head. "She will not last if she remains much longer in these lands. Only in the Blessed Realm might she find peace and wholeness."

"Might?" Elrohir asked sharply.

"There are no guarantees," Elrond admitted. "But her chances of recovery will be far greater there than were she to linger here. To stay will only hasten her fading. I will not lose her to the Halls of Awaiting. Not while I still draw breath." He spared them one last grieving gaze then said: "I must go back to her."

He hurriedly left the room. For several minutes his children could only look at each other in speechless disbelief.

"I never imagined it would come to this," Elladan softly said, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

On the verge of speaking, Arwen broke into sobs instead. She sank into Elladan's arms, weeping heartbrokenly. The older twin held her tightly, channeling all his strength into comforting her despite the anguish in his own heart. But Elrohir did not go near them. Instead, he stood and walked to the wide window behind his father's desk and stared out at the stark landscape. Legolas watched him worriedly. The younger twin's eyes had been veiled but the prince had glimpsed something terrible in their depths, what, he did not know.

After a few minutes, Glorfindel rose to go to him but as soon as Elrohir became aware of his approach, he drew in a ragged breath, spun on his heel and fled the study. The others exchanged glances of consternation. Elladan would have followed but Legolas swiftly forestalled him.

"Arwen needs you now," he said. "I will see to Elrohir."

Elladan nodded and went back to his sister. Legolas, on the other hand, hastened after the other twin. Questions placed to various servants and retainers yielded the information that Elrohir had gone to his bedchamber. Coming to the door of the twin's room, Legolas knocked on it. When silence greeted him, he decided to enter with or without the warrior's permission. He stepped in and halted on the threshold.

The Elf-knight was seated on the low, wide divan below his window, leaning back against the glazed panes, half turned to stare into the twilight. He was hugging himself as if to still the trembling that wracked his body. Tears streamed down his pallid cheeks but no sound escaped his quivering lips.

Legolas shut the door behind him and swiftly went to his friend. Kneeling before him, he took the other's hands in his, tugging at them until Elrohir turned to look at him. The argent eyes were brilliant with tears yet strangely dulled with sorrow. The sight nearly broke Legolas' heart.

"We failed her," the words spilled numbly from the twin's lips. "We did not get to her in time."

Legolas shook his head vehemently. "Nay, Elrohir, you did not fail her," he firmly objected. "Do not blame yourself for this."

Elrohir stared at him blankly. And then the blankness was replaced by sheer anguish. "Elladan and I were supposed to accompany her to Lórien," he bitterly said. "But then you sent word that you might visit and I begged off."

Legolas caught his breath. Suddenly, Elrohir's behavior made so much sense. The Elf-knight continued, his voice harsh with self-recrimination. "Elladan said 'twas wrong to change our plans when there was no surety of your coming but I refused to hearken to him. Then Mother bade him stay because she knew we did not like being apart overlong." His eyes glistened with remorseful tears. "Elladan was right. I should have done my duty. Had we been with her, we might have prevented this from happening."

"More likely you would have been killed or grievously injured as Erestor was," Legolas countered gently. "'Twas not your fault, _gwador_. You could not have saved her anymore than I could have saved my own _naneth_."—mother.

He looked down at the hands in his. Powerful, supple warrior's hands. Yet they now shook helplessly as Elrohir struggled with his desolation. Legolas felt the cold that clutched at his friend's heart, knew it for the chill of grief and guilt and despair. Letting go, he threw his arms around the twin instead, holding him close, urging him to lean his head upon his shoulder. He felt Elrohir wrap his arms around him in return, clasping him tightly as if he feared to lose him.

The Elf-knight's next words proved his suspicion true. "Do not leave me, Calenlass," Elrohir said brokenly. "I could not bear to lose you, too."

"I would never leave you!" Legolas exclaimed softly. "You are my heart's brother. I cannot conceive of life without you at my side."

The twin shuddered in his arms. Drawing back slightly, he peered into the silvery pools anxiously. Elrohir gazed back at him, his eyes blurred with grief. And then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Legolas' mouth. It was a soft, brief kiss, almost a chaste one, yet it caused the archer's heart to skip a beat. He stared at Elrohir in surprise. The darkling Elf flushed and looked away,

"I am sorry," he whispered.

Legolas hesitated then raised his hands to cup Elrohir's face, compelling him to look at him. Gazing into the depths of the twilight eyes, he comprehended his friend's need. Mere lust alone had not impelled the kiss; there was also a hunger for warmth, comfort and affection to dispel the cold that had taken hold of his spirit.

The memory of that passionate Mirkwood week recalled itself to the prince's mind. He shivered, remembering in graphic detail what had passed between him and his friend. Unbidden, he felt his body react to the memories and he swallowed with some difficulty. He had never really come to terms with his improbable response to Elrohir's pleasuring. Just the thought of lying with the Elf-knight once more was enough to set off a volatile mix of emotions he had yet to truly understand.

But the need in his friend's eyes was all too compelling. He could not deny the other the solace he so desperately craved in this dark time. Resolved, Legolas cast aside his doubts and reservations once more for the sake of a friendship he treasured above everything else. He lowered his hands and began to undo the ties on the twin's shirt.

"Let me warm you," he murmured.

For a moment, Elrohir stared at him incredulously, but at his shy, acquiescing smile, the warrior drew in a steadying breath and likewise reached to disrobe his friend.

When they were both unclothed, Elrohir pulled Legolas onto the divan to lie beside him. For a long while, they remained thus, the twin bestowing tender kisses upon the archer's lips, cheeks and throat. Content to simply hold his friend close, he let his hands remain still upon Legolas' flank and back.

The prince quickly discovered that the potency of Elrohir's kisses had not diminished in all these centuries. They were still as seductive and sweet and irresistible as he remembered. Lulled by the slow, sensuous exploration, he opened up to the Elf-warrior; parted his lips and allowed the reaches of his mouth to be tenderly pillaged, lifted his chin to ease the passage of gently suckling lips as they followed the pale curve of his throat.

Slowly, Legolas' warmth penetrated the chill in Elrohir's spirit until he no longer trembled from it. The awful grief began to subside to be replaced by a kinder sorrow. He still felt the sadness of his family's imminent sundering but it no longer filled him with dread and despair. Before very long, the cold all but dissipated. But with its abatement came the gradual, inevitable rise in passion.

Warmth turned into heat, the gentle kisses gave way to deep, breath-stealing caresses, the motionless hands began to roam and touch and feel. Legolas gasped as Elrohir reached down between them to gently cup and caress him; groaned as agile fingers stroked him to throbbing hardness, grasped convulsively at the warrior's powerful arms when he pressed their groins together, bringing them into sensuous, rapturous contact.

Before he could form another thought, he found himself lying beneath Elrohir, quivering under the twin's knowing hands and lips. As before, he could not help the instinctive responses the warrior evoked in him. His throaty moans evinced the inexorable arousal of his body even as his mind steadily lost all grasp of lucidity.

Close to a millennium had passed since they'd last lain together yet he felt the same wild thrill pass through his being at every evocative kiss and touch and whispered word. His breath continued to quicken as Elrohir slowly but ardently reclaimed him, proving all too plainly how well he knew Legolas' body and its needs.

As Legolas' slender frame trembled beneath him, Elrohir could only wonder at the blessing the Valar had bestowed upon him a second time. He'd never thought to touch or taste, let alone take his Greenleaf once more. Despite Legolas' assurance that he would always be there for him, Elrohir had not approached him again for intimacy in the close to nine hundred years that had followed that first time. Much as he'd secretly desired to do so, he'd simply felt it unacceptable to impose upon his dearest friend once again. Instead, he'd resolutely held on to the memories of that enchanted week in Mirkwood and resolved to content himself with them.

Now, more than mere remembrance was within his reach and coming so close on the heels of his sorrow, it was all the more poignant and precious to him. Once more, he committed to memory each and every moment of joy and rapture. He doubted he would be so blessed again and therefore added them to his precious store of treasured recollections.

Legolas shuddered as Elrohir drew out each and every caress. Whether he was tenderly caressing the length and breadth of the archer's body or amorously tending to the ache that had by now pooled in Legolas' groin, there was a purposefulness to the twin's every action that both mystified and enthralled his friend. Even the moment of Legolas' completion was closely attended to as the warrior deliberately milked him dry of his seed.

Drained by such edacious suckling, Legolas only woozily registered the pillow that was gently slipped under his hips; barely noted that his legs had been spread wide open. Thus he was jolted when Elrohir pressed into him with his tongue, shocked that even that part of his body did not escape the Elf-knight's attentions. But the shock at being explored so intimately soon gave way to a fast burgeoning arousal and with it a desperate need to bring the delicious torment to its inevitable conclusion.

By the time Elrohir slid into him, he was more than ready for it. His whole body cried out for it, begged for the relief only a joining with the younger twin could bring. In spite of his earlier release, he did not feel quite complete until he felt Elrohir sheathed deeply within him. It confounded him that he should feel this way but he soon ceased to think about it at all when Elrohir brought his body back to full arousal.

And then they were rocking together in a motion as ancient as love itself. Unsettled by his body's eager capitulation to Elrohir's allure and skill, Legolas reached out blindly with one hand and found it caught in Elrohir's reassuring grip. It was not too long ere the archer sobbed out his surrender and shuddered his release between them. And but scant seconds later he felt the warm gush of Elrohir's seed within him.

They collapsed together, Elrohir resting his dark head upon Legolas' chest. For several minutes they lay quietly, waiting for their minds and bodies to calm down. It was then that Legolas heard the Elf-knight's whispered, "Thank you." A pause and then a hushed and hesitant confession followed. "I have missed this."

Legolas swallowed hard. The admission was daunting to say the least, illustrating as it did all too clearly that Elrohir's passion for him had not truly waned. But he was not certain what unnerved him more – his friend's continued desire for him or his body's readiness to accommodate that desire.

Elrohir raised his head at his silence and espied his unease. He bit his lower lip regretfully. "I should not have let you do this," he murmured.

Legolas moved swiftly to blunt the other's remorse. "Nay, you needed me," he said softly. "You needed this. I do not regret it and I would not have you do so either." He gently pulled the Elf-knight back down and stroked the midnight silk of his hair. "I promised I would be there for you for as long as you need me. You know I never break my promises."

He felt Elrohir shift his head to look up at him and he turned to meet the other's gaze. The twilight eyes gleamed with gratitude and affection. "Then I am truly blessed," the Elf-knight quietly said.

Legolas smiled and curled his other arm around his friend.

oOoOoOo

Elladan reached out, trying to sense his brother. Arwen was quieter now. Yet he did not dare leave her nor did he wish to. His sister felt so fragile in his arms, as if she would break if he were to release her. But he was also concerned for Elrohir.

Despite their twinship, it was no easy matter to connect with Elrohir at a distance. Especially if his brother was unaware of the effort to make the connection. Thus, it was not Elrohir's conscious thoughts that Elladan gained but his overflowing emotions.

The abundance and profundity of feeling that washed over the older twin nearly overwhelmed him. In that instant, he knew what had just occurred. He drew in a shaky breath.

Arwen stirred in his arms and looked up, eyes now calm though still red and teary.

"I am all right now, _tôr iuar_"—older brother—she whispered. "Thank you. Mayhap you should go to Elrohir."

Elladan shook his head. "Nay, there is no need. Legolas has more than adequately comforted him."

Arwen gazed at him curiously, wondering at his odd use of the past tense. Not to mention the strange gleam in his stormy blue eyes. "How do you know—?"

He placed a finger against her lips and granted her a sage smile. "We are twins, remember?"

She looked at him skeptically, not quite convinced that was all there was to it. But Elladan hugged her close once more and she desisted from pressing for more.

Glossary:  
Ada – Papa  
Nana – Mama  
gwanneth - younger twin  
gwador – sworn brother

_To be continued_…


	48. Prelude to Grief 6 Sundering

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI: Sundering  
_Viressë_ T.A. 2510  
She left as soon as passage west was possible. So depleted was her blithe spirit that she did not even have the strength to await Celeborn and Galadriel's reply to her husband's missive regarding her waning. By the time her sorrowing parents got to read the letter, she was already on board the ship that bore her to the Undying Lands, away from all that she loved.

"Will you be comfortable in Finarfin's halls?" Elrond asked her the eve of her departure. They were lying in the bed they had shared for nigh two and half millennia, Celebrían snuggled in the protective embrace of her husband. The bouquet of reawakening vegetation wafted through the windows, the clean smell of new greenery refreshing the denizens of Rivendell.

"He is my mother's sire. My grandsire," she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against his throat, breathing in his scent, one she deemed more alluring than the most costly fragrances of Middle-earth. "I will be well cared for in his home."

Elrond made no answer save to kiss the top of her silver crown. He hugged her thin form closer. The signs of fading were clearly apparent now. She was closer to gaunt than slender, the veins in her throat and hands standing out starkly against her too white skin. Her silver hair while thick and long had lost some of its wondrous luster and her lovely eyes were dulled by exhaustion and the constant onslaught of guilt.

The dreams had come back in full accompanied by ever escalating bouts of violence against those who tried to help her when she was in such straits. Her guilt over her actions however unintentional refused to abate. That it was her husband and sons who most bore the brunt of her furies only further exacerbated her self-castigation. Add to this the constant resurgence of pain from her wounds and it was a wonder that she had lasted this long.

Elrond stroked his wife's argent locks tenderly, pressing kisses now and then to her temple and cheeks. He did not see the lessened sheen of her hair, or the pallid tone of her skin or the increasingly obvious boniness of her form. In his eyes, she was still the fairest Elf in all Arda.

"Would that I could go with you," he murmured.

"If only you could," she softly agreed. "But you still have a part to play in the future of these lands."

Elrond sighed. In that moment, the weight of his exalted heritage seemed almost unconscionably heavy.

"I pray that the years will pass swiftly that I may join you soonest," he whispered.

Celebrían looked up at him, her eyes limpid with devotion. "'Tis my prayer, too." The blue pools then darkened with foreboding. "But do not hasten to my side if by doing so we should lose our children to your brother's choice," she added urgently. "Keep them to the path, _hervenn_, I beg of you."

Elrond hesitated then nodded. It was a never-ending source of apprehension for them. If he could, he would have urged his sons and daughter to go with their mother and not await the day of his own departure. But he knew they were not ready to forsake Middle-earth. His greatest fear was that they would never forsake Middle-earth at all. Nevertheless, he strove to assure his wife that he would do his best to hold them to his path. He would not burden her with yet another grief; she already bore more than she could bear.

He sighed once more as her lips turned into his neck. They had seldom coupled since her harrowing experience. She'd been in too much pain too often for such indulgences. But now...

"Love me," she whispered against his skin, her warm breath raising prickles of desire along his flesh. "I would take the memory of this night with me unto the West."

"As you wish, _seron vell_"—beloved—he murmured.

He granted her desire and more. They did not know when they would enjoy the bliss of each other's loving once more. And so they coupled through the night, gently and slowly so as not to tire her past endurance, but thoroughly and ardently to create enough memories to carry them through Elbereth only knew how many lonely years.

oOoOoOo

Only her children, Legolas and the closest members of Elrond's household gathered in the courtyard to see her off. Gildor Inglorion waited with his company of Elves by the arched gate leading out into the valley beyond. It had been her desire that her farewells to these dearest few should remain private. She spoke to each softly, tenderly. Almáriel and Iorwen wept while Lindir strove not to upset her by breaking down in her presence.

Erestor forgot all about restraint and dignity when she lovingly embraced him and he hugged her back fiercely, tears streaming down his cheeks. She had always been so kind to him, never treating him as anything less than a member of the family. She turned to Glorfindel, whispered a few words of gratitude and counsel to him. When she hugged him after, the Balrog slayer was seen to shudder with the effort not to weep.

Legolas swallowed hard when she came to him. As always, she regarded him with maternal affection. The prince near came to tears himself. Ever had she been like a second mother to him since the passing of Ithilwen. He pridefully held them back; bit his lower lip lest it quivered. He sighed sadly as she drew him into her warm arms, stroking his fair hair as she would one of her own children. She drew away and took his capable archer's hands into hers.

"Be strong for my children," she softly implored.

"I will, my lady," he promised. Their regard drifted for a spell to the twins and Arwen who awaited their turn with their mother. Legolas' eyes met Elrohir's and the prince unexpectedly blushed.

Celebrían noted the exchange; her gaze lingered a moment on Elrohir, reading his demeanor with unerring comprehension. With this sudden insight into her younger son's heart, she also beheld something of the future as the foresight of her line came upon her. She turned back to the archer, pinning him with a look that both heartened and warned. "What you share with Elrohir is beyond compare, Legolas," she gently counselled. "Hearken to your heart if you would see it prosper." At his startled stare, she added, "Your fate – and his – are one and the same."

"What – what do you mean?" he asked in confusion.

"You will understand when the time comes," she replied. She pressed a parting kiss to his cheek then walked to her family. Legolas could only stare at her, perplexed, a frown furrowing his brow.

She opened her arms to her children, embracing each in turn. Elladan openly wept, as did Arwen. Only Elrohir remained dry-eyed though his expression was no less sorrowful. Their mother spoke to each of them, gazing at their faces as if to memorize each and every line and curve of their features.

"My ever dependable Elladan," she said to her firstborn. "Do not burden yourself with duty to the exclusion of your desires, _gwaniuar_. I would see you happy with your heart's choice."

Elladan smiled faintly at her. "I will keep my eyes open, _Nana_"—Mama—he murmured.

"Eyes and arms," she teased gently and caressed his crimsoned cheek. "Whoever you may choose, he or she will be most welcome into our family. Always remember that, _iôn_."—son.

"I will, _Nana_."

She looked at Elrohir. Her eyes softened in understanding when he unthinkingly glanced in Legolas' direction.

"And you, Elf-knight?" she crooned. "Have you found what you seek?"

Elrohir started then gazed at her in wonder. "Mayhap." He looked at her a little anxiously and lowered his voice that only she might hear him. "I would that you did not mention this to _Ada_."—Papa.

"You would keep this from him?" He nodded somberly. "And Elladan? Does he know?"

"I think he suspects."

"Why, _iôn nîn_? Why such reticence?"

Elrohir sighed. "Because I know not if it will ever come to fruition. I do not desire anyone's pity, not even _Ada's_ or Elladan's." Again he beseeched her. "Please say nothing, _Nana_."

After a pause, she nodded and hugged him close. "Keep faith, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—she whispered into his ear. "Never lose hope that your desire will be granted."

When at last she turned to her only daughter, her eyes suddenly widened and she grew even whiter than anyone thought possible.

"_Nana!_" Arwen exclaimed, catching her in her arms. "Are you ill?" Elrond and the brethren came closer and flanked them.

Celebrían shook her head then looked up at the Elf-maid. To her family's alarm, her eyes shone bright with frightened tears.

"'Tis just that I – I had the strangest feeling that I would never see you again, _iell nîn_"—my daughter—she gasped.

Arwen stared at her. "That is absurd, _Nana_!" she insisted. "We will be together again."

"I hope so," Celebrían faintly said.

Elrond softly said: "We will always be together in our hearts, _meleth_. No matter where our paths lead us."

His wife looked at him, her eyes swimming. And then she bit her lip and embraced Arwen. "Whatever happens, I want you to be happy, dearest," she said. "Let nothing deter you, Arwen, not even us."

For once, Arwen could not find the words to say and in lieu of speech, she conveyed all her love and sorrow in their tight embrace. They parted most reluctantly, Celebrían letting her gaze linger on her daughter's countenance for the longest time.

Gildor Inglorion now approached them.

"It is time," he quietly said.

Elrond nodded and placed a hand on his wife's arm. Celebrían looked at her children one last time then let her husband lift her onto their steed. Elrond mounted behind her and, with a grave nod to his sons, turned the horse towards the gate, his wife secure in the curve of his arm.

She did not look back. She could not. It would have been too much to bear to look upon her grieving children as she departed from their home. And their lives.

Glossary:  
Viressë - Quenya for April  
hervenn – husband  
gwaniuar – older twin  
iôn nîn – my son  
meleth - love

_To be continued_…


	49. Prelude to Grief 7 Intentions

_**Prelude to Grief**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII: Intentions  
_Cermië_ T.A. 2510  
The gardens of Elrond's house were bathed in golden light this fine afternoon in July. Out by the summerhouse, the Lord of Rivendell watched in amusement as his sons and their Mirkwood friend labored amongst the exquisite roses that had been Celebrían's pride and joy. Overseeing their efforts was Arwen who at the moment displayed all the authority of her mother and none of her gentle persuasiveness.

"She is still a little raw around the edges."

Elrond glanced with a chuckle at Glorfindel who sat by his side on the soft, velvety grass. He and Erestor had joined him for a short while. Erestor, his head cradled in the golden captain's lap, dozed lightly.

"Aye, but she will learn quickly now that she has put her head to it," Elrond said. "She will make a proper Lady of the Valley and do her mother proud."

"If she can school her over-tart tongue first," Erestor sleepily put in, roused by their chatter.

The other two Elves laughed softly. Elrond returned his regard to the trio of would-be gardeners and their graceful taskmistress. It was good that his children had taken it upon themselves to care for their mother's roses. In preserving that which she had so enjoyed they were keeping her memory close to them.

His eyes drifted to the summerhouse by the rose garden. It, too, evoked recollections of a time long past when the twins and Arwen had been but Elflings innocent of the world beyond and their family had been whole and happy. He wondered if his children would care to use it for their leisure. He knew he would not. It had been his gift to Celebrían after she'd given birth to the twins. He'd known she would delight in a place she could retire to in times of needed solitude or respite. As such, it would only remind him of their life together and that was much too painful to bear now that she was gone.

He put his pensive thoughts aside when the young quartet finally lay down their tools and came to join him. He grinned as Elladan scowlingly wiped a smidgen of earth from his cheek, which Elrohir so graciously pointed out to him.

"Will they do?" he inquired of his daughter.

"Well enough," she smiled impishly.

"Well enough?" Elladan growled. "Is that all you have to say after making us toil so hardily?"

"Considering that _Nana's_ roses may well have expired from your questionable ministrations, I think my words high praise as it is," she retorted.

Elladan cast her a look so black, it drew renewed laughter from their elders.

"Peace, my children," Elrond grinned. "I would have quiet and tranquility about me this lovely day."

Elrohir glanced at him curiously. "Arwen says you are thinking of visiting Lórien this autumn," he said.

"I am considering it," Elrond admitted. "Celeborn and Galadriel were grieved not to have been able to see your mother before she left. I would bring comfort to them if I can." He nodded in Arwen's direction and added: "Your sister wishes to come and I would counsel you to join us as well."

"Why, _Ada_?"—Papa—the Elf-knight asked.

"You and Elladan have expressed a desire to continue with your questing," Elrond said gravely. "I will not stop you if 'tis your wish. But I do think it prudent for you to think your reasons over before you go. Lórien will afford you the chance as Imladris and all its memories cannot."

Elrohir exchanged a look with his brother. Consultation and agreement passed between them swiftly and silently.

"Very well, _Ada_, we will join you," Elrohir said. He turned his eyes on Legolas. "Calenlass? You have oft said you would like to visit the Golden Wood. Mayhap you could come with us?"

Legolas sighed and shook his head. He looked toward the far end of the gardens where the Imladrin warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, conversed with several Mirkwood soldiers. The Wood-elves had arrived in the valley just two days past bearing Thranduil's summons to his youngest son. For the Elvenking to send an escort to fetch him was a clear indication of his father's desire for him to return home soonest.

"I dare not disobey my father," he said. "He would not demand my presence were it not necessary. Troubles hound our borders without cease and my brothers are hard-pressed to hold the line. I am needed at home."

Elrohir nodded and said no more on the matter. But the prince could not fail to espy the disappointment in his eyes.

"When shall we leave, _Ada_?" Arwen eagerly inquired.

"You are keen to go," Elladan commented.

"I miss our grandparents," she said. "And I have a wager to settle from so many years ago. 'Twould be an opportune time to do it."

"What wager is this, _thel neth_?"—young sister—Elrohir queried.

"One of grandfather's border guards bet that I couldn't shoot an arrow straight to save my life," she huffed. "I intend to prove him wrong and have him on his knees before me begging forgiveness for demeaning my skills."

"Poor fellow," Elladan chuckled. "He will rue the day he offered so misguided an opinion."

After a while, Glorfindel and Erestor rose and returned to the house. It had been a pleasant interlude but they had duties to attend to. Elrond soon followed with Elladan and Arwen. But Elrohir and Legolas remained behind. Though the younger twin had risen to his feet as well, he stood still for several minutes gazing impassively at the summerhouse and rose garden. He did not seem in the least troubled and in fact appeared remarkably composed. But Legolas suspected otherwise.

He regarded his friend with ill-concealed anxiety. Elladan had claimed that Elrohir's calm was deceptive and the prince was inclined to believe him. Beneath the surface of the Elf-knight's quiet demeanor still lay hurt and anger and some of the coldness of spirit that had so overcome him the day they learned of Celebrían's fate. But he was slowly burying his simmering emotions beneath layer upon layer of feigned serenity. Soon they would be so skillfully hidden that even his own twin would be hard-pressed to know truth from pretense.

The prince wished he did not have to leave on the morrow. More than ever Elrohir needed his company. But he could not ignore his duties to the Woodland Realm. He'd already stayed away far longer than he'd asked leave for. Still, he longed to do something before he departed. Something that would help keep Elrohir anchored in hope and optimism and hold overbearing bitterness and despair at bay. Something that would be of deep-felt comfort even when he was no longer there in person to offer it.

_I have missed this._

Elrohir's confession to him in the wake of their unexpected coupling suddenly came to mind. He shivered as the memory of bewitching kisses and beguiling caresses edged into his consciousness; warm color swiftly suffused his cheeks. He was surprised to have even thought of it but now that the idea had presented itself he found himself inclined toward it. He was not certain if it was a wise course to follow but the Elf-knight's need for whatever consolation he could give outweighed everything else and he firmly put wisdom and all other considerations aside. If there was more to his decision than his concern and affection for a beloved friend, he chose not to examine it at present. Mayhap another time.

Taking a deep breath, he took Elrohir's hand and gently pulled him toward the house. The twin looked at him questioningly as they walked back.

Legolas simply said: "Let me warm you."

Elrohir gazed at him in surprised wonderment. His twilight eyes glittered darkly. And then a faint, grateful smile curved his lips and he nodded.

Arm in arm, they entered the Last Homely House east of the sea.

Glossary:  
Cermië – Quenya for July  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

The End

**Part 13:** The Choices We Must Make – The twins seem destined to find their heart's choices in Mirkwood but the paths they take widely differ. Rating: M (het/slash)


	50. The Choices We Must Make 1

**Summary:** The twins seem destined to find their heart's choices in Mirkwood but the paths they take widely differ.

**Characters:** Elladan/OMC, Elladan/OFC, Elrohir/Legolas (implied)

**Rating:** M for sexual content (het/slash)

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Mirkwood, _Gwaeron_ T.A. 2776  
The appearance of two cloaked riders on the western bound of Mirkwood elicited little enthusiasm and much suspicion from the sentries who guarded the borders. That is, until one of the riders let down his cowl and revealed a head of raven hair and a countenance of uncommon comeliness even amongst the Elves. It was enough to send the sentries into a flurry of hasty action. There was no time to waste. The king had to be appraised of the imminent arrival of two such eminent guests.

While one warrior hurried back to warn Thranduil, the others all but goggled as the two riders made their way down the elven path. Such was the fascination with the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, that even the seasoned Elf-soldiers of Mirkwood could not contain their excitement at the chance of setting eyes on Rivendell's twin princes.

Their entrance into the delved palace's great hall was enough to cause many an _elleth's_ heart to skip a beat (not to mention a few discreet _ellyn_). Dressed completely in black even to their leather bracers and billowing cloaks, their midnight tresses bound into thick single plaits, they were breathtakingly beautiful to behold and fatally seductive to boot. Years of perilous errantry had infused them with an allure that was near impossible to resist.

Their exploits were well known in every elven realm and their names were cursed in every Goblin stronghold from the Misty Mountains to Mordor. Never forgetting their mother's torment at the hands of vicious Orcs, always mindful of the lives they saved with every goblin they slew, they spent months, sometimes years in the wild, hunting, snaring and slaughtering the foul creatures that infested Hithaeglir and neighboring regions.

They had also dared to venture far into the south, serving in the armies of Gondor or riding in the Riddermark with the fierce Rohirrim, oft offering such sage counsel to their human captains that they were treated with much respect and awe even by the highest-ranking amongst them. Yet they always maintained anonymity, passing themselves off as mercenary warriors driven by their hatred of the Enemy, concealing their most obvious elven features, their leaf-shaped ears, beneath their thick locks or heavy cloak hoods. Only in the coastal princedom of Dol Amroth did they reveal their identities to its rulers for elven blood coursed through the veins of this realm's mortal princes.

Less than two centuries after their mother's tragic abduction, the sons of Elrond were the stuff of legend.

But to Thranduil, they were as sons, so dear were they to most of his family. He strode forward now and caught them up in hearty embraces, unmindful of those who keenly watched them.

"I had wondered when you would think to visit this realm once more," he mildly chided them. "Has Mirkwood's charms so paled that you prefer the lure of mortal kingdoms?"

Elladan smiled. "Nay, sire, in truth we would have come sooner but for the troubles in the south."

"So your father wrote me," Thranduil said. "Come, you must tell me what you know."

He led them from the hall and the curious, swooning gazes of their various admirers, arranging for food and wine to be brought to his study. Halfway down the tree-covered path to the residential pavilion, they were unexpectedly halted by a whirlwind in boots. Elrohir laughed as he found himself with an armful of enthusiastic golden-haired Elf.

"At last, you have returned!" Legolas exclaimed as he drew back from the Elf-knight. He grasped Elladan's hands in turn and looked him over swiftly. "You look well for a pair of roguish adventurers," he commented.

Elrohir chuckled. "You would rather we looked as travel-worn as the Dúnedain?" he said.

"Nay, I am only amazed how you manage to appear so... so presentable despite your journeying."

"It takes a certain panache to achieve it," Elladan smugly said. "Mayhap you will learn it someday, Mirkwood prince."

At Legolas' mock-scowl, Thranduil smiled in amusement. "If you are done with your greetings, _iôn_, I should very much like to speak with them. You may join us, of course."

Legolas snorted. "As if you could keep me away!"

With a grin, he slipped between the brethren and linked arms with them in comradely fashion. Even before they reached the pavilion they were already deep in animated conversation.

Things took an interesting turn almost at once though mayhem no longer stalked the royal halls of the Woodland Realm. The twins, tempered by time and tragedy, no longer cared for the frivolity of pranks and such. Their considerable energies expended for the most part in errantry, they now preferred other more mature forms of entertainment when they returned from the wild. And there were many who were more than willing to accommodate them.

The twins had admirers aplenty. Of that there was no doubt. In fact, as Brethildor good-naturedly groused, they had too many. Not that Legolas' brother begrudged them the attention. He was recently betrothed to an Elf-maid of good family and placid disposition. The perfect match for the stolid second son of Thranduil as the king was wont to say with an indulgent smile.

It was Legolas' other brother who resented the brethren's uncommon allure. Melthoron, his ill-temper and unruly tongue still untamed despite the passing of centuries, fairly seethed each time he was forced to watch yet another _elleth_ make a lissome fool of herself before one twin or the other. That they welcomed the brothers' promiscuity for the chances it afforded them to dally with either one did little to lessen his rancor toward them. Even more loathsome to the crown prince was the greater daring of some Elves, male and female, to more openly flout Mirkwood's prejudice against same-kind relationships whenever the two visited the woodland realm.

The openness and acceptance with which Elladan and Elrohir regarded such partnerships gave impetus to these Elves to be more forthcoming about their proclivities. If the twin princes of Imladris were known to have indulged in such affairs, what mere Wood-elf even be he a noble of Thranduil's court would dare scorn any who followed their example? Why, even the king himself, already remarkably tolerant compared to his sire, was inclined to further benignity when the brethren were around.

Melthoron proclaimed to all and sundry that the twins were a menace to society, promoting as they did the immorality of their kindred. A few listened, of course, particularly those who sought to curry favor with the heir to Mirkwood's throne. But most paid him little heed, including his own family, which only curdled his already soured temper even further.

Perhaps it was not too surprising that three weeks into the brethren's visit things finally came to a head.

oOoOoOo

It was the day Elladan challenged Brethildor to a friendly game of Strategy. The darkling prince may have been no deep intellectual but when it came to all things martial, he was a veritable treasure trove of information and skill. As a result, he was a worthy opponent in this game of tactics and military wiles. Accepting the challenge with relish, Brethildor suggested they retire to the king's study where they were unlikely to be interrupted or distracted by onlookers. Elrohir and Legolas came along, as did the archer's only sister.

Nimeithel was a curious mix of solemnity and merriment. She was a striking beauty as only an Elf-maid who resembled Thranduil could be and generally sweet-natured but possessed of a disconcerting ability to utter the most unexpected observations. This latter trait had long endeared her to the twins who doted on her as they did their sister, Arwen.

A most intense and avidly contested game ensued with Elrohir and Legolas making the occasional witty if not very helpful side comment and Nimeithel shushing them as she tried to learn as much as she could of the game. It was when Elladan had just pulled off a masterstroke and Brethildor was mulling what move to use to counter it that Melthoron swept in.

The crown prince frowned as soon as he saw his three siblings happily partaking of the twins' company. Legolas had always gravitated to them much to his eldest brother's never-ending irritation. But to have even Brethildor and Nimeithel be on such good terms with the brethren – it was insupportable! He approached the gaming table and stared at the play in progress. He scowled when he realized Elladan had the upper hand at the moment.

"What, _muindor_, you would let the Peredhel best you?" he growled at Brethildor.

The younger prince shrugged and grinned at Elladan, unmindful of his brother's ire. "'Tis a brilliant move," he said. "But I think I can undo it."

He moved a piece on the board putting Elladan on the defensive. Melthoron laughed approvingly.

"See that you keep him in his place," he all but ordered Brethildor.

Silence descended upon the group. While Brethildor flushed uncomfortably at such discourteous language in front of the brethren, Elladan directed a cool glance at the crown prince. As a rule, neither twin paid him any mind, so used were they to his animosity towards them. But this morn, they were not inclined to take his abuse meekly. Not when it had been heaped upon them daily since their arrival.

"And just what is my place, _ernilen_?"—my prince—he calmly queried.

"Why, behind my brother of course," Melthoron smirked.

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at that. He suddenly grinned wolfishly, which put Melthoron off his stride. "And is Brethildor amenable to that position?" he quipped. "I would think he would prefer to take the more dominant role."

Elladan and Legolas gasped in concert then burst into laughter. Melthoron, however, could only stare in bewilderment at the younger twin. His confusion increased when Nimeithel and even slow-witted Brethildor comprehended Elrohir's lewd remark.

Brethildor managed to stop chuckling long enough to say: "You spoke true, Elrohir. Should I ever care to try _that_, I would prefer to be behind. Or on top!"

As the laughter grew more raucous, Melthoron finally understood what all the hilarity was about. He turned a most disagreeable shade of red.

"You would jest about so abominable a thing?" he snapped at Brethildor. "You have associated with these half-breeds far too long!"

The twins' demeanor turned markedly icy at the slur but they still held to restraint.

"Have a care, Melthoron," Elladan cautioned. "You denigrate something that is inherent in all _Edhil_, yourself included."

Melthoron scoffed. "Bah! Everyone knows 'tis but a myth perpetuated by the Gelydh to allow them to pursue their perversions!"

"Nay, 'tis no myth," Elrohir said evenly, refusing to let the crown prince lure them into losing their tempers. "Look about you, Melthoron. Such passions exist even amongst your people though they hide it for fear of censure."

Melthoron snorted. "Spoken like a true Noldo. Twisting facts and spreading hearsay to serve your own base needs."

Elrohir's eyes darkened ominously but he kept his peace. Nimeithel however spoke up on his behalf.

"Melthoron!" she exclaimed. "Not even _Adar_ ever spoke of Elrond and his kin in that manner. You go too far, brother."

"Aye, you would do well to apologize to the _gwenyn_"—twins—Legolas agreed.

"Apologize to Peredhil?" Melthoron bristled. "I would sooner be spider bait than bring myself so low!"

"That can be arranged," Elrohir said coldly.

Legolas quickly intervened. "_Muindor_, courtesy requires a civil tongue at the very least. Elladan and Elrohir are our guests and deserve that much from all of us."

"You would take their part, _tôr neth_"—younger brother—the crown prince sneered. "Ever solicitous are you of their comfort; so kind, so generous. But then 'tis to be expected for you have always been too soft of heart to be a proper king's son."

Legolas' cheeks flushed with anger but he held his tongue. The heated argument was fast escalating into a full-blown quarrel. There was no telling what would happen next especially with the twins around.

"Is this the way of a _proper king's son_?" Elladan remarked acidly. "To treat your brother with so little respect?"

Melthoron scowled. "If Legolas seeks my respect he should earn it first," he retorted, disdain dripping from every syllable. "As it is, he has given me cause to scorn him." He cocked his head at the youngest prince. "You grovel before them like a common lackey when 'tis they who should bow before you!"

"Friends do not abase themselves before each other," Legolas hissed.

"So you say yet I warrant you would do anything for these 'friends' of yours," Melthoron taunted. "Even take them up your backside if they demanded it of you... Golodh pet!"

Before he could even blink, Melthoron found himself slammed brutally down upon the tabletop, a gleaming knife at this throat. Strategy pieces went flying as the board crashed to the floor. Hovering above him by a mere few inches was Elrohir. The Elf's silvery eyes were livid with fury.

"Insult me and Elladan all you wish, Elf," he snarled. "But do not vent your spleen on your own brother!"

"Elrohir!" Elladan cried, grabbing at his twin's arm. "Nay, _gwanneth_, do not sink to his level. He is not worth it!"

On his other side, Legolas placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Your concern for my honor is most appreciated, _gwador_"—sworn brother—he said, "but I assure you I am quite used to Melthoron's vile tongue. Let be, Elrohir."

With an abrupt movement, Elrohir released the pop-eyed, terrified crown prince. He looked down on the Elf with undisguised contempt.

"You are truly Oropher's grandson," he spat.

With that, he strode from the room. Elladan and Legolas exchanged glances then hastened after him. Brethildor could only stare on with mouth agape and eyes agog.

Nimeithel, on the other hand, idly regarded her near-purple hued oldest sibling. "You should know better than to provoke the _gwenyn_," she mildly remarked. "They are slow to anger but fearsome when roused. You are fortunate Elrohir did not slice up your pretty face just for the sport of it."

Melthoron could scarcely stutter in his rage and humiliation. "He dared to lay a hand on me," he gasped. "_Adar_ will hear of this insolence! I will have Elrohir's head and mount it on my bedchamber wall!"

"More likely _Ada_ will have _your_ head for behaving in so unmannerly a fashion to our noble guests," Nimeithel coolly pointed out. "And speaking of heads, really Melthoron, it would seem that the one you use for thinking is not the one upon your shoulders!"

She rose to her feet and gracefully swept out of the chamber. While Brethildor whooped with laughter, Melthoron stared after her in shock and unbelief. He could not accept the fact that his oh-so-sweet sister would stoop to such crude allusions.

Nimeithel followed in the wake of Legolas and the twins and finally found them in the gardens. To her surprise, Elladan stood apart whilst Legolas sought to appease a still fuming Elrohir. She sidled up to the older twin questioningly.

"This is a strange sight," she commented. "Why is it Legolas and not you at Elrohir's side?"

Elladan smiled humorlessly. "We are not joined at the hip, Nimeithel, though it may seem that way to many." He nodded towards the pair. "Besides, 'tis Legolas' honor that was brought into question and the reason for my brother's wrath. 'Tis he who can soothe Elrohir's anger."

"He cares very much for Legolas," she softly remarked. "Think you his desire but a passing thing?"

Elladan glanced at her, startled. "You know."

"Legolas told me," she replied.

"And you are not appalled?"

"Why should I be? Indeed, as you earlier pointed out, why should anyone look down upon that which is in our nature?" She sighed. "It only leads to needless hardship for many who dare not reveal themselves or their loves."

"Yourself included?" Elladan queried, a little surprised.

"Nay, I have not felt _that_ urge," she said. "But one dear to me has known anguish because of it." At Elladan's curious expression, she said, "Do you remember my good friend, Lothrian?"

Elladan nodded, recalling the lovely but forthright _elleth_ whose carriage was as graceful as a doe's and whose tongue was as sharp as an orkish cleaver.

"She and Tathariel... they fell in love," she quietly said. Elladan stared at her in amazement. It was difficult to imagine that beauteous but oh so stern warrior maid in the throes of love. "But they suffered for it, believing it wrong, thinking themselves twisted for loving each other. 'Tis only when my dear _naneth_ bless her tender heart, told them the truth that they were able to love each other fully. Yet even now they stay in the shadows, fearful of reprisal."

"They have my sympathy," Elladan offered gravely. "'Tis a pity they have not the freedom to be themselves."

Nimeithel nodded, smiling sadly. "They oft speak of removing themselves to Imladris or Lórien. I fear they may eventually act on it if only to be able to have their love in the open. Not hidden in the dark like a shameful thing." She gazed once more at her brother and Elrohir.

Elladan musingly regarded the Elf-princess whose serious mien was half-hidden by the veil of her dark tresses. She'd always preferred to wear her hair loose and her glorious locks fell about her shoulders and down her back like a midnight-hued waterfall. He thought how much a mixture she was of her forthright father and gracious mother.

She shook her head bemusedly. "How is it that something innate in us and therefore right, should be regarded as dishonorable and wrong among my folk?"

Elladan let out a resigned breath. "I will not bore you with a treatise on the divergence of elven cultures. I wager you already know more than enough. Suffice to say that fear of change and the unknown oft hinders the journey to enlightenment and acceptance."

He paused as he noticed Elrohir and Legolas speaking together, smiles beginning to crease their lips.

"All is well," he said in relief, his own mouth breaking into a grin.

Nimeithel musingly watched her brother and the younger twin. "You did not answer my question," she reminded Elladan.

The grin faded from Elladan's face. He pursed his mouth then heaved a troubled sigh. "In truth, I do not know. But I would rather it be but a fleeting passion. Elrohir does not love easily or lightly. If he were to truly love Legolas and not have it returned..." He shuddered. "The consequences are unthinkable."

"Then let us hope 'tis not true love but only a passing desire," Nimeithel agreed. But Elladan caught the doubtful note that crept into her voice. "His reaction to Melthoron's taunts..." She hesitated. "Does he rue his passion for my brother?"

"Nay, not his passion," Elladan corrected, "but that Legolas felt compelled to assuage it. Despite your brother's assurances, Elrohir has not ceased to worry that their couplings may have affected him adversely."

"He should not burden himself with guilt," Nimeithel said. "Assure him of that, Elladan; 'tis no hardship for Legolas. He finds your brother's touch pleasurable and most welcome. He has told me so himself."

Elladan raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise. "That is heartening to hear," he said. He nodded in Elrohir's direction. "It will give him ease of heart and soul to know this. He has borne this burden far too long."

"And Melthoron's taunts only exacerbated his unease," Nimeithel added frowningly. "Ai, he has always let his ill-temper and pride get the better of him."

Elladan snorted. "'Tis difficult to imagine how your parents managed to produce such a thick-skulled creature as Melthoron," he remarked acidly. "He is a cruel jest of fate!"

"As is my bone-headed brother, Brethildor," Nimeithel added wickedly.

Elladan laughed. "Your words, not mine. But Brethildor has his heart in the right place even if he is rather wanting up here," he said, tapping his temple. "I do not mind his company as I do Melthoron's."

"Yet you and Elrohir give him a wide berth whenever possible!" Nimeithel reminded him tartly.

"We have no intention of being the first Elves in Arda ever to die of sheer boredom," he rejoined, eliciting a peal of laughter. His face grew thoughtful. "But Melthoron..." he mused. "He needs be taught a lesson in humility and courtesy. Elbereth knows he could use a healthy dose of both."

"And are you the Elf to do it?" she challenged.

"Mayhap."

"What would you do?" the princess curiously asked.

A wide grin lit Elladan's face with unholy glee yet rendered him even more breathtakingly handsome than Nimeithel had imagined possible. She drew in a sharp breath as an unfamiliar sensation snaked its way through her limbs.

"I am confident I can think of something... effective," Elladan responded, unaware of the change in his companion's countenance.

Just then, Elrohir and Legolas joined them. The younger twin immediately noticed his brother's roguish expression.

"What are you planning, brother?" he asked suspiciously.

Elladan smiled sweetly. "Why nothing, _gwanneth_."

Elrohir's eyes narrowed. "Then why do I get the feeling that something is going to happen shortly?"

"Now what could possibly happen so soon?" Elladan countered with patently false innocence.

"Short of the entire forest going up in flames?" Elrohir snorted. "In your hands, anything!"

"Do not fear, I am not contemplating so heinous a prank as razing Mirkwood to the ground," Elladan assured him.

"I should hope not!" Legolas remarked, half amused, half alarmed at the very idea.

"Out with it, _gwaniaur_"—older twin—Elrohir growled. "You have never kept a secret from me. I am not about to let you start doing so now."

Elladan chuckled. "Then come with me, _muindor_. I would have your opinion as to the efficacy of a 'lesson' that needs be taught."

He took Elrohir by the arm and hauled him away. Legolas watched them saunter off, wondering at the nervous fluttering at the pit of his stomach. The twins were already discussing something that was obviously of great interest to both judging from their animated gestures. That didn't bode well for whoever or whatever they were talking about, he mused. He glanced at his sister then regarded her curiously.

Nimeithel watched the brethren, too, a thoughtful expression on her fair face. But her eyes fastened more oft than not on Elladan with an intensity previously lacking.

Glossary:  
Gwaeron - Sindarin for March  
elleth – Elf-maid  
ellyn – male Elves  
iôn – son  
naneth - mother  
muindor – brother  
Edhil – Elves  
Gelydh – 'Deep Elves", Sindarin name for the Noldor  
gwanneth – younger twin  
Peredhil (sing. Peredhel) – Half-elven/Half-elves  
Adar, Ada – Father, Papa

_To be continued_…


	51. The Choices We Must Make 2

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
Melthoron practically scurried down the corridor to his bedchamber one night a week later. It was way past the midnight hour and all was silent in the residential pavilion save for the sound of his light footsteps. In the stillness, they seemed uncommonly loud.

The Crown Prince of Mirkwood darted into his room as if a pack of Wargs was on his trail. He swiftly shut the door and sagged against it. So flustered was he that he did not notice that though his windows and balcony door had been opened to let in the fresh night breeze, the draperies were drawn thereby shutting out moon and starlight. And since not a single taper had been lit, the room was steeped in darkness so deep he could barely make out the contents of his room. Mayhap he preferred it that way. The dark hid his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance even from himself.

His heart beating erratically, Melthoron staggered blindly to the wide four-poster bed, ripping off his cloak as he did so, and sank down shakily. He flinched and groaned as certain body parts protested almost at once. Elbereth! What had he been thinking? Why had he allowed that? His thoughts wandered back unwillingly to the events of the evening.

Since the advent of the Peredhil in Greenwood, a society of Elves who dared to explore their duality had come into being in the woodland realm. Always prudently discreet, these Elves met in secret in selected residences where they could be open about their loves and lives. Typically the larger gatherings were held in the more spacious multi-chambered homes of Wood-elves of noble birth while smaller homes hosted more intimate affairs. In these havens, they could freely unite with their loved ones and voice their frustrations and joys. And in these hidden refuges, they could experience as much or as little intimacy as they desired without fear of discovery.

Not all were involved in long-term relationships. Some simply went to these gatherings in search of the fleeting satiation of a casual coupling. And for the few who were wary even amongst kindred souls, these meetings were especially attractive because of the anonymity they afforded to those who were not prepared to unveil themselves.

They were always dimly lit, these sanctuaries. Partly to accommodate those who wished to conceal their identities, partly to avoid calling attention to the residence in which a gathering was occurring. Of course, for the greater number with no need to hide, there were always adequately illuminated chambers at their disposal. And anyway, with time, even the shyest or most timid came to trust their fellows and revealed themselves, thus sharing in the freedom of unwariness the others enjoyed. All save one.

When Melthoron first heard rumor of this secret society within the bounds of Mirkwood, he'd thought to confirm its existence with the object of exposing its members to the greater population of the realm. Though the participation in same-kind relationships was no longer treated as a criminal offense as had been the case during Oropher's time, those who were proven to be involved in such activities were usually ostracized to the extent that they were either forced to renounce their partnerships or leave Mirkwood for more friendly realms.

And so the prince had managed to learn of the time and location of one gathering and attended it incognito. It was fairly simple to do so. A heavy cloak with its hood up, the dim lighting, the understanding that not all Elves who came desired to reveal themselves. Melthoron went. And found he could not expose these _Edhil_ as he'd planned.

Something awakened within him when he witnessed the intimacies between paired _ellyn egor ellyth_.—male Elves or Elf-maids. Curiosity at first. Then bemusement that he should be curious. And finally and improbably, unexpected arousal and desire.

That had shocked him to near witlessness the first time he recognized his feelings. It had spurred him to be even more vicious in speaking out against those very same Elves who inspired the feelings in him. It was part foolish reprisal against them for unknowingly upsetting his life and part insurance that no one would suspect him of harboring these unnatural proclivities when he so actively opposed them in public.

But he could not stay away. Not from what beckoned so seductively to his very spirit until, finally, he began to tread at the periphery of their activities. A passionate grope here, a flurry of kisses there, always in the darkest shadows where even elven eyes could not make out features enough to identify the other. He'd spent himself on occasion in the capable hand of one partner or another but had never gone any further than rabid fondling; that Mirkwood warriors were known to do so on occasion when far afield was an excuse he clung to no matter how spurious.

But tonight! He groaned and fell back on his bed, staring blindly at the invisible ceiling. What had possessed him to allow things to proceed that far?

By now, he knew most of the Elves who belonged to the society. He'd been quite shocked to discover not a few prominent names amongst their number including respected nobles, highly regarded scholars and renowned warriors. He'd avoided trysting with them, fearing they would recognize him since they moved in the same circles. He was extremely cautious about being caught. It would not only be personally humiliating but would also produce the biggest scandal to hit Mirkwood since Thranduil precipitately wed Ithilwen when she'd carelessly allowed him to get her with child.

Tonight, he'd sat by himself in a corner of the darkened common hall as he always did when he attended one of these gatherings. Sooner or later, someone would approach either to inquire as to his comfort or to proposition him. When it was the latter, he always made his limitations clear at once and so matters never progressed beyond whatever couch he happened to have seated himself in from the start.

But this evening, an Elf had sat by him uninvited and engaged him in hushed conversation. He could not tell who the other was since he, too, was cloaked and hooded. But he was soon beguiled by the stranger's droll wit, obvious bodily beauty and seductive appeal. One thing had led to another and before he knew it he was unmoored by kisses and touches that rendered his brain all but incapable of doing what it had been created to do. Which was why when his companion softly suggested they go somewhere more private...

"I trust you are recovered from your earlier exertions?"

If an Elf could experience a heart attack, Melthoron came very close to doing so now. He bolted to his feet in shock, his heart thumping madly, his breath coming in short, erratic spurts.

"Who—!" He became aware of a shadowed figure seated in the armchair by the cold hearth. "How did you get in here?" he demanded, somewhat stupidly on reflection.

"'Tis simple to get anywhere if one knows one's way around," the stranger murmured. Melthoron frowned. Somehow he sounded... where had he heard that voice before? "I would not do that if I were you," the intruder added when the prince opened his mouth to call for the guards. "Not if you wish the whole of Mirkwood to know where you just spent your evening. And a very dissolute one I must say."

Melthoron stared, appalled, at the other Elf. "I do not know what you are talking about," he blurted out at length.

"Then let me elucidate. This night, a certain Elf came to the gathering at Lord Grithnir's home seeking, shall we say, congenial companionship. As he has gone to several others in the past five years or so. Always cloaked, always hidden, always silent save for the sparest of whispered utterances. None know who he is for he alone refuses to give even a hint as to his identity. He is recognized only by the _mithril_ clasp with which he fastens his cloak."

"But tonight, this Elf met another whom he apparently could not resist. He allowed himself to be drawn into a private chamber, permitted more than just the usual kisses and caresses. For the first time, he knew the full pleasures of intimacy with another _ellon_. That Elf was you, Melthoron of Mirkwood."

"Nay, that – that is a lie!" The prince was virtually shaking in his fine leather boots.

"A lie? Were your moans of satisfaction a lie as well? Or the seed you spent so copiously upon the sheets?" Mild amusement limned the other Elf's voice at the prince's horrified countenance. "Or the reason for the unusual scar you bear on your thigh? A broken branch that dug into it when you fell during a hunt several years back, you said. Was that a lie, too?"

The world came to a stop as the familiarity of that maddeningly seductive voice suddenly became more acute.

Melthoron gasped. "_You?_"

"Aye, me."

The fair-haired Elf sat down upon the edge of his bed, his knees giving way at last. "What is it you want of me?" he demanded hoarsely. "Would you have me in thrall to your demands?"

A husky chuckle reverberated through the room. Unbidden, it sent a thrill of excitement up the prince's spine much to his disconcertment. The Elf rose, revealing a lean form clad in naught but a thin, form-hugging shirt and tight long breeches. About his shoulders spilled dark, lush unbound locks.

"Have you in thrall, my prince?" he softly said. "Nay, but I would have you again."

Before Melthoron could move, the other Elf had him flat on the bed, pinning him down with the ease of one who was well versed in the love-arts. Shock blunted the crown prince's otherwise battle-swift reflexes. Before he could mount a counter-attack in earnest, his assailant reached between them, tore open his already loosely laced breeches and had him in hand. He groaned and collapsed completely, gasping and trembling as skillful hands worked him to near excruciating arousal.

"Relax and enjoy yourself," the Elf crooned as he made short work of Melthoron's garments. "This is but the beginning for I intend to deliver you into rapture many times before the light of day."

Melthoron succumbed to his partner's masterful attentions.

oOoOoOo

Hours later, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood awoke with a start, his long legs tangled in the cool white sheet with which he had been thoughtfully covered. He winced as he rolled onto his side, his backside throbbing with unaccustomed rawness. But that was to be expected after having been ridden to near senselessness and sharpest pleasure several times in one night. He squinted into the still dimness. Dawn was just breaking and the window and balcony draperies were still drawn.

He became aware of the figure leaning against the wall by the balcony, looking at him. Fully dressed, he realized with a jolt, and his dark hair neatly bound into a style he found different yet unaccountably familiar.

He sat up gingerly and stared at his bold bed-teacher. The other Elf said nothing.

"Who are you?" Melthoron finally asked.

"Why do you wish to know?" the Elf softly challenged. "So that you may hound me out of Mirkwood?"

"Nay, of course not!" Melthoron objected. "I could hardly do that when you—" He halted, feeling his stomach lurch at the thought of the hold this Elf now had on him.

"And what of the others?" his companion pointed out. "You infiltrated their band that you might expose them. Were it not for the revelation that overtook you, I have no doubts they would have been revealed to Mirkwood years ago. Indeed, you always speak quite vehemently against Elves who love their own kind though I wager 'tis partly to throw off any suspicions that you had taken to exploring your dual nature."

Melthoron swallowed hard. "I will not pursue that course," he finally said. "I concede I may have need of – of..."

"Sanctuary?" At the prince's hesitant nod, the dark-haired Elf said: "You will come to know where your heart lies. Whether 'twill be an _ellon_ or an _elleth_ that will stir you will matter not. Or you may never give your heart to any one Elf at all. That is perfectly acceptable as well. 'Tis your right to choose, Melthoron. 'Tis the right of all _Edhil_."

The prince sighed. "So I was told by somebody recently. But I did not wish to accept it."

"And now?"

"I have no choice, do I? Though I cannot be open about this. Mayhap I never can. I am still the Crown Prince and as such must uphold the laws of this kingdom." He looked at his one-night lover. "But this much I can do. I swear I will stay my hand and tongue in this matter. Is that what you want?" At the other's nod of assent, he pleaded, "Now, please tell me, who are you?"

The Elf grasped the draperies and pulled them aside. The hazy light of early morning flooded the chamber and illuminated his features.

Had Melthoron chosen to howl his shock, it would have been enough to rouse all of Mirkwood and neighboring Esgaroth besides. As it was, all he managed was a strangled gasp of recognition tinged with equal parts disbelief and awe.

center>oOoOoOo

"Is it my imagination or is Melthoron more civil toward the two of you these days?" Legolas inquired.

He and the brethren were lounging by the drill yard, watching the newest and youngest batch of Mirkwood warriors go through their paces.

"Nay, you are not imagining things, Calenlass," Elrohir demurred. "He has been admirably civil and has even deigned to converse quite politely with us on occasion."

Legolas noticed the slightest quiver in the younger twin's lips, which indicated a tightly suppressed desire to laugh. He gazed suspiciously at the Elf-knight then at Elladan who was pursing his lips for the same reason as his brother.

"I wonder what wrought this change?" the prince commented, keenly studying his friends. "Oh, and only this morn he rebuked several counsellors for suggesting that _Adar_ come down harder on Elves who practice their duality. 'Tis a thing unheard of where my brother is concerned!"

Elladan smiled so gently Legolas at once found it suspect. The older twin said very softly: "Well, he can scarcely allow such harsh measures when more than one Mirkwood prince has had a Peredhel up his backside."

For the space of a heartbeat, Legolas stared at him blankly, the enormity of the simple statement too great to register all at once. And then he gaped at the older twin in utter speech-stealing shock prompting Elrohir to dissolve into silent, shoulder-shaking laughter. For the longest while, the prince remained thusly. When he finally found his tongue, he could only inadequately mutter, "That must have been quite a lesson..."

Hidden a short distance behind them by the gnarled thick trunk of an ancient tree but still within earshot, Nimeithel just managed to stifle her own gasp of surprise. _Melthoron? Bedded by Elladan?_ She peered around the tree to regard the older twin. An odd mixture of pangs of unwonted jealousy and a coursing of desirous admiration burned through her being.

Ai, what madness had come upon her that she should feel this way about Elrond's older son? Of all the Elves in Arda, why Elladan who saw her as nothing more than his friend's little sister?

It was a most improbable and impossible situation.

oOoOoOo

The brethren stayed until May. With Melthoron's unruly tongue miraculously tamed insofar as the twins and elven duality were concerned, no more untoward incidents occurred and the scions of both the woodland kingdom of Mirkwood and the valley realm of Rivendell enjoyed each other's company to the fullest. To the royal household's amazement, Melthoron actually joined in some of the revels thought up by his youngest brother and the twins. It was such unprecedented behavior that many wondered if the prince had taken leave of his senses. But as he seemed in full possession of them, everyone eventually concluded that he'd simply grown up at last.

But delightful as the brethren's visit was, their stay had to end and, as summer encroached, they made preparations to depart. Legolas did not hide his distress that they would soon take leave of Mirkwood. Ever loath to dispense with their company, he complained that they were much too stingy of late with their fellowship what with their errantry and journeying. It was nigh twenty years since last he'd been with them. Would it be another score before they met once more?

Heedful as always of Legolas' sentiments, Elrohir sought to rectify matters. After feeling Legolas' doleful gaze upon him as he packed the last of his belongings the eve of their departure, he straightened up and looked at the prince.

"We need not wait so long before meeting again," he said. "Elladan and I plan to rest a year in Imladris before we go hunting once more. If you would care to visit us in the spring...?"

"Only in the spring?" Legolas scowled.

The Elf-knight chuckled. "Nay, we would be pleased to have you stay for as long as you can. What say you?"

Legolas considered the prospect of spending most of the following year's spring, the whole of summer and part of autumn in Rivendell. A grin curved his lips and his eyes glowed with pleasure.

"Done!" he enthusiastically agreed. "Look to the east as soon as the first blossoms awaken, _gwador nîn_."—my sworn brother.

Elrohir smiled. "I will, Calenlass."

Glossary:  
Edhil – Elves  
Peredhel – Half-elf  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
ellon – male Elf  
Adar - Father

_To be continued_…


	52. The Choices We Must Make 3

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
Imladris, _tuilë_-_yavië_ T.A. 2777  
As Legolas had promised he travelled to Rivendell as soon as the snow melted away and the passes of Hithaeglir were cleared once again. Hardly were the first buds of the year open when he left Mirkwood and made the long trek to the hidden vale. With him was Nimeithel.

As soon as he had asked leave from the Elvenking for an extended visit to the brethren, she had pleaded to be allowed to accompany him to Rivendell.

"I have long yearned to see Imladris," she earnestly said. "Always have I contented myself with what tales you care to tell me, Legolas. But now I desire very much to see for myself what wonders there are to see. Please, _tôr iuar_, do not leave me behind yet again."

Legolas had looked at Thranduil who in turn considered his daughter's request. "I suppose I can trust Legolas to look after you," he commented mildly.

"_Ada_, she is no infant in need of a nursemaid," Legolas pointed out indignantly.

"But she is still an Elf-maid venturing into new territory," Thranduil shot back dryly. "And the twins' territory no less."

Legolas had to laugh at the king's lack of trust when it came to the twins and carnal matters. But then considering their voracious appetites... "I will keep her virtue safe, _Ada_," he grinned.

"Then I see no reason why you cannot go with your brother, _iell_"—daughter—the Elf-king told his only daughter.

He was rewarded with a hug so tight, he had to draw a deep breath afterward to replenish his air supply. So it was that, three weeks later, Nimeithel rode at Legolas' side as they negotiated the steep slope leading down into the deep-cloven valley that harbored the elven refuge. They were met by the twins ere they came to the tributary stream and they crossed the bridge together.

It was a joyful meeting; one that Nimeithel had cause to envy. Only a year had gone by since the twins' visit to Mirkwood yet they greeted each other as if it was three score instead. But then she supposed it was to be expected since before that, twenty years had passed with little more than brief missives between them. She cautiously observed Elrohir's demeanor around her brother, mindful of her previous discussion with Elladan. That in turn led her to regard the older twin; surreptitiously lest someone note her undue interest and give importance to it.

"'Tis a pity that Nimeithel should visit when Arwen is in Lórien," she heard Elrohir say. "They would get along splendidly, I warrant."

"Aye, they are very much alike though Arwen has ever been the more tart of tongue," Elladan added.

"Yet she has greatly mellowed, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—Elrohir remarked. "Our grandam's influence no doubt."

"She spends much time in Lórien?" Legolas asked.

"Since Mother's passing she spends years at a time with our grandparents," Elladan explained. "More than twenty five years the last visit and no doubt it will be many years before she returns from this one."

"Lord Elrond must be very lonely with all his children gone for such lengths of time," Legolas said pointedly. He had never been able to bring himself to approve of the brethren's vengeance-driven errantry.

"We never do so together," Elrohir gently said. "Arwen remains with _Adar_ when we are gone for longer than a year and we do the same in turn. We would never forsake our father thusly."

"I should hope not," Legolas said. "Though you seem to think nothing of forsaking others."

"Ah, the truth will out," Elladan said. "'Tis our abandonment of your company that you dislike."

Legolas blushed slightly. "Well, 'tis only that your absences have grown longer with the passing years. Twenty this last and more than forty the one before that. I have oft times wondered if I would ever have the pleasure of your society again."

"It will not happen again, Calenlass," Elrohir quietly promised, eliciting a look of surprise from his own brother.

Watching him, Nimeithel had the distinct impression that the Elf-knight had made that decision only at that very instant and in response to Legolas' displeasure.

Legolas looked at the younger twin keenly. "Truly?"

Elrohir returned his gaze. "I swear this last will indeed by our last long sojourn. Should we venture forth in the future, we shall keep such journeying brief. I hope this will content you?"

Touched that Elrohir should so speedily acquiesce to his wishes, Legolas beamed affectionately at him and said: "Aye, it will and it pleases me greatly as well. Thank you, _meldiren_."—my friend.

Feeling rather invisible, Nimeithel decided to make her presence felt. She cleared her throat loudly, drawing the others' attention.

"Nimeithel, forgive us," Legolas said contritely. "We did not mean to ignore you."

"Aye, 'twas not intentional," Elladan warmly said. "Elrohir and I shall make amends for this egregious oversight, I promise."

She dimpled charmingly. "I understand your forgetfulness," she said. "And hold no ill-will towards you. But I hope 'twill not be repeated for I have no mind to be treated like so much extra baggage."

"Ah, that stings," Elrohir chuckled. "I doubt we will miss Arwen overmuch with your sister here in her stead," he said to Legolas

Legolas laughed, casting Nimeithel a fond glance. "You had best take that as high praise, _muinthel_"—sister—he said.

"I do," she smiled. "I have heard enough from you about the Lady Arwen to know I should esteem her."

"And fear her," Elladan added with a wicked grin. "But let us not tarry. I imagine you must be weary from your journey and long for some rest."

"That I do, Elladan," she agreed.

He smiled then with such heartfelt kindness that his already handsome face glowed with even greater beauty. To her horror, Nimeithel felt her cheeks heat up and she hastily bowed her head to let her loose hair obscure her face.

"Let us hurry," Elladan said to Legolas with concern, mistaking her posture for exhaustion. "I would have your sister resting in her chamber soonest." None saw her cheeks turn even more crimson under his tender regard.

They proceeded to the Last Homely House at a markedly brisker pace.

oOoOoOo

Nimeithel soon discovered that a visit to Imladris with her brother was not all leisure and enjoyment. While the first weeks were indeed all that she could have desired – walks and rides in the valley and the woods and hills around it; constant company with such legends as Glorfindel and Erestor, not to mention Lord Elrond himself and his renowned sons; Lindir's wondrous music, his fair voice rivaling those of the Silvan Elves; the comfort of Almáriel and Iorwen's maternal attentions long missed since her mother's passing; and enticing insights into daily life in the fabled refuge – the exigencies of the times eventually reared their not so attractive heads.

Just as the twins oft took part in patrols or the chase with Legolas when they visited Mirkwood, so now did Legolas offer his skill in arms whenever either brother or both joined scouting or hunting expeditions out of Rivendell. At such times, she felt torn between concern for the three of them and impatience at being left to her own devices until her brother should return.

The other male members of the household had responsibilities to attend to and she was not one for endless sewing and cooking, kind as Iorwen and Almáriel were. Nor could she keep company with either Elladan or Elrohir when either stayed behind in Rivendell. Legolas had warned her never to remain alone with one twin or the other. The Elf-prince trusted his friends with his very life but he was not as trusting when it came to his only sister's innocence. Not when he knew their reputations much too well and the exploits behind said reputations.

She began to chafe at the restriction and the feeling of rebellion became especially strong after spending nearly a week doing naught but embroidering, weaving and kitchen duty when the three took off with an Imladrin hunting party. They could not fail to notice her expression of displeasure when they returned and offered to assuage it with anything in their power to bestow.

Nonetheless, they were still surprised by the demand she made when she did take up their offer. Elladan was tasked to lead a patrol investigating renewed orkish activity southwest of Rivendell and Legolas was going with him. Elrohir would stay behind to help Elrond with his many duties not least of which was serving in the healing halls. All three were surprised when Nimeithel asked to join the patrol.

"This will be no walk in the woods, Nimeithel," Elrohir pointed out. "There will be fighting and you are no warrior."

"I am well aware of that," Nimeithel conceded. "But I want to help. I promise I will stay out of the way."

"Nimeithel—" Legolas began doubtfully.

"I can help with any wounded," she hastily added. "And I can do the cooking."

They stared at her, nonplussed for a moment. And then Elladan chuckled. "You are as persistent as a Dwarf in search of _mithril_," he remarked. "Tell me, can you climb trees?"

It was Nimeithel's turn to stare. "I beg your pardon?" she managed to say. "Why should I know how to climb trees?

"Because if there is any danger, it will probably be the safest place for you to be," Elladan replied. "I know you can move quietly and I will assume, correctly I hope, that you can also move quickly. Therefore, all I wish to know is if you can climb a tree."

Nimeithel shook her head in some disbelief. "I can scramble up any tree you choose, Elladan. I am a Wood-elf, remember?"

Elladan studied her a moment longer. Accurately surmising that she would not be dissuaded and might even do something rash to get her way, he looked at Legolas. A glance of question and agreement passed between them, Legolas shrugging in resignation. Elladan gave in.

"Very well, you may come. But you will have to stay with me or Legolas at all times and follow everything I say. Is that understood?"

"Understood," Nimeithel quickly agreed.

"Then I suggest you rest well tonight for we leave at dawn. I will have proper raiment provided for you in the morning."

oOoOoOo

No walk in the woods. Not even when one was on horseback, Nimeithel thought confusedly in her weariness. She hung on to her steed tenaciously, determined not to disgrace herself by falling of it as no proper Elf would. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tunic.

She had blushed deeply when she beheld her image in a mirror after donning the clothing Elladan had sent to her. She'd never worn anything that revealed more than her ankles in all her life and now here she was in a garment that showed her shapely legs. The form-hugging long breeches did nothing at all to ease her embarrassment. The tunic and long-sleeved under-shirt were no help either, as both opened at the sides and, therefore, oft revealed the contours of her thighs as well. Definitely most unseemly for a maiden, she thought, discomfited anew. Only stern warrior-maids could get away with such brief garments.

The patrol was now some five days travelling distance from Rivendell. They'd seldom paused for rest, always hastening on once they picked up the trail of their prey. They'd already come across evidence of the Orcs' brutish activities – ravaged hamlets, strung up corpses and grisly feasts, human peasants fleeing their burning homes and fields. Already driven by his need to avenge his mother's suffering, Elladan was all the more enraged by these further atrocities and pushed on with grim intent. Meanwhile, Nimeithel kept to her word, always staying by his or Legolas' side and taking over most of the cooking to free up the other scouts.

By noon, the troop had discovered the Orcs' exact whereabouts near a small wooded area several miles north of the last settlement they'd attacked. Elladan swiftly laid a trap for them. While a few scout headed off to lure them into the snare, everyone else disappeared into the high branches of the trees. Nimeithel felt her heart pounding wildly as she followed Elladan and Legolas up a large oak. One restrictive glance from Elladan warned her to stay put no matter what happened.

In what seemed like mere seconds, the scouts dashed by below them, the sounds of heavy treads and feral curses close on their heels. Soon the Orcs arrived beneath the trees. Bedlam broke out as a rain of arrows greeted them. Panicking, the Orcs scattered. The Elves dropped down to finish off the survivors.

Watching anxiously from her perch, Nimeithel spotted a wounded soldier as he limped away from the center of the fray. Fearing for his safety, she climbed down against Elladan's orders and hurried to help the Elf get out of harm's way. Just as she'd gotten him behind a wide-trunked tree, she felt the hairs on her nape stand up. Glancing behind her, she froze when she realized an Orc had her in its sights.

Elladan saw her peril and sprinted to shield her. She screamed when he took the arrow meant for her in his left shoulder. Only his superb reflexes and strength enabled him to fling a knife at the Orc archer in retaliation, thereby killing it. Nimeithel caught him as he sagged to the ground, his face paling considerably as blood oozed steadily from the injury.

The fighting soon came to an end with nary a Goblin left alive to so much as whimper. Seeing that Elladan was injured, Legolas hastened to him to tend to the wound. Nimeithel had helped the older twin sit up against a tree. Legolas bent over the wound, his nimble fingers examining the severity of the damage. Though not as skilled a healer as the twins, he was familiar with the treatment of injuries sustained in battle.

"I think 'tis poisoned," Elladan managed to whisper. "It burns and the pain is spreading."

Worried, Legolas inspected the arrow's position in the wound. They exchange grimaced looks. Without another word, Legolas took out his knife and, before Nimeithel's horrified eyes, proceeded to dig out the arrowhead.

She glanced at Elladan. He was white beyond belief, pain etched into his features. Yet he made no sound beyond an occasional moan. How can he withstand such pain? she wondered, her heart breaking for him. She blamed herself. This is my fault, she thought. If I had not been here, this would not have happened!

Instinctively she took his hand. A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he clutched convulsively at her hand.

Legolas managed to pull the arrowhead free. This time Elladan could not stifle a gasping groan. Shuddering, he turned and buried his face in Nimeithel's breast. Intuitively, she wrapped her arms around him and held him closer, trying to impart whatever comfort she could give.

"There _is_ poison at work," Legolas said vexedly. He handed Nimeithel a clean cloth. "Here, staunch his wound," he told her. "We must get him back to Lord Elrond as soon as possible. I will see to the others." He hurried off.

Nimeithel pressed down on the wound as she was told but Elladan raised his hand and stopped her. "Help Legolas," he told her.

"But I cannot leave you like this," Nimeithel protested.

"There are others more grievously injured than I," he reminded her. "They need your help."

"But, Elladan—"

"Do as I say, Nimeithel! Go!"

Nimeithel flinched at his sharp command. He had spoken to her as a captain and not as a friend. Biting back her tears, she dumbly nodded and rose to her feet.

As she moved among the wounded, she kept glancing back at the Elf-lord. Injured as he was, he remained in command, directing his warriors and giving comfort to those more seriously hurt than himself. She was awed by his strength and humbled by his courage. It then came to her.

She knew she had began to care for him far beyond what one felt for a friend but she had suppressed those feelings by reminding herself that, as he saw her as no more than his best friend's sister, he was beyond her reach. Now she could no longer deny them.

_I am falling in love with him_.

A mere day and several hours later, she found herself watching from the door of one of the healing rooms as they laid him down on a bed. They had journeyed back with more speed than when they'd gone forth and gained the valley's safety in less than half the time it had taken to catch up with the Orcs. Elrohir had met them at the Ford of the Bruinen and helped bear his twin back to the Last Homely House. Now Elrond and his healers moved in to strip him of his bloodied tunic, jerkin and shirt and examine the wound.

Nimeithel observed her brother and Elrohir speaking in hushed tones with one of the healers. She wondered what was happening but could not discern anything intelligible.

At last Elrohir came out, his fair face sober. He noticed Nimeithel standing by the door. Her face was an open book. He read misery and guilt and fear in her expressive features and took pity.

"He will be all right, _meldis_"—friend—he gently assured her. "We have drained most of the poison and his body will be able to deal with whatever remains. But he will be in much pain for another day or so."

Nimeithel swallowed hard. "I wish there was something I could do to help," she whispered.

Elrohir glanced back into his twin's chamber. One healer was binding the wounds and to one side Elrond was mixing a medicinal draught. He turned back to Nimeithel. "He will sleep soundly for now but when he awakens, he will likely feel the pain," he informed her. "Father is preparing something for it. And he wants Elladan watched this night."

Nimeithel looked at the younger twin gratefully. "Please, I wish to take that duty," she softly pleaded.

Elrohir nodded. "It will be a long night," he said. "And there is nothing you can do right now. I suggest you freshen up and get something to eat."

Nimeithel agreed. She took one more long glance into the chamber then departed for her own. Elrohir watched her receding figure. A hand on his shoulder told him Legolas had come up beside him and was watching his sister as well.

"She blames herself for this," Elrohir murmured. Legolas nodded in assent.

oOoOoOo

Nimeithel gazed down at Elladan. She had pulled a chair up to his bedside and settled there for the night. She'd been staring at him for the better part of four hours but found she did not tire of studying the contours of his face or the line of his shoulders and torso.

He was beautiful, of that she had always been keenly aware. But it was only now that she had a chance to appreciate his beauty in full. Asleep, with his silken hair spread out in sable waves on the pristine pillow, he looked so much like an innocent. But the innocence was deceptive, she mused with a shiver. Here was one who wielded power with ease and grace. He could be as gentle as day or as perilous as night, a loyal friend or a ruthless enemy.

She was thankful that his eyes were closed. It was all too easy to lose one's self in those blue-tinged grey eyes. As warm as sunlight or as cold as ice, this changeability as charming as it was bewildering. They were dangerous, those eyes, for they saw too much yet gave little away and lured one into betraying one's secrets. It did not do to gaze too long into them if one wanted to keep something to one's self. Her gaze drifted to his mouth.

She wondered at the power of his smile. One was uplifted by it but also unnerved. Those same lips could turn grim or stern and make you rue ever having crossed him. She sighed. Their last exchange had not been pleasant. She had been foolish to try and countermand a direct order. I should have known better, she regretfully admitted to herself. Her eyes drifted lower once more.

It was the first time she had seen him unclothed, at least from the waist up. He was slender like her brother but his torso and limbs were slightly more solid. His Peredhil heritage she realized. Nevertheless, he was perfection personified in her eyes. Only the bandages on his shoulder marred the flawlessness of his body. The bandages whose snowy whiteness was now slightly stained with blood. They don't belong there, she thought. They wouldn't even be there if not for me.

Elladan turned his head slightly, a soft sound escaping his lips. Nimeithel immediately came closer, kneeling by the bed. When he opened his eyes, her face was the first thing he saw.

Before he could speak, pain lanced from his shoulder down his arm and radiated outward to his chest. A sharp breath escaped him and he was forced to grit his teeth in order not to cry out. Nimeithel gasped and quickly rose to fetch from the bedside table the draught prepared by Elrond. Hurriedly, she knelt once more, the drinking cup in hand.

"Here," she murmured. "This will help ease the pain."

Slipping an arm under his neck, she gently helped him up. She held the cup to his lips. He took a few swallows then lay back once more, eyes still closed in pain. Nimeithel felt her heart constrict with hurt and guilt as she gazed at his white face.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and a smothered sob burst from her. Elladan opened his eyes at the sound and looked at the silently weeping princess. Reaching out his hand he took hers and squeezed it reassuringly.

"'Tis all right, Nimeithel," he whispered.

The Elf-maid looked at him incredulously. "How can it be all right? You are hurting so terribly!"

Elladan managed a wan smile. "Nay, I've known worse."

"Worse?" Nimeithel stared at him, appalled. "What could possibly be worse than this?"

The Elvenlord shook his head. "I do not think you want to know. You will have to get used to this; 'tis part of our lives."

Nimeithel swallowed her tears. "I must change the bandages," she thickly said. She hurriedly unraveled the long panels of cloth. Baring the injury, she was reminded of the reason for it and was stricken with guilt once more. As she sponged away the dried blood, she chided herself for having insisted on going along on the sortie.

"This is my fault," she whispered. "I am so sorry, Elladan."

Elladan glanced at her, a frown between his brows. "Do not say that," he admonished. "'Tis no one's fault."

"But if I had not come along, you would not have had to shield me from that arrow," she said bitterly. "What use was I anyway? Just a useless piece of baggage."

When he didn't respond, she thought he agreed with her. Biting her lower lip, she proceeded to clean the wound. But as she moved to get up and fetch fresh bindings, he took her hand and pulled her back.

"Do not think of yourself thusly," he told her gently. "You wanted to help and you did help wherever and whenever needed. I hardly call that useless."

"But if I had not been in the way, you—"

He put a finger to her lips, startling her into silence. "The fortunes of war," he reminded her. "'Tis not your fault. Do not speak of it again."

Nimeithel hesitated then nodded and rose. As she gathered the bandages, scissors and medicaments on the bedside table, she found her thoughts wandering in a totally unexpected direction.

His finger on her lips had taken her by surprise. But more than that it had suddenly made her feel an intimacy with him that had not been there before. To love from afar was one thing. To experience any physical closeness, no matter how fleeting, was another. In the space of one day and one night he had set her on a course from which there could be no return. She could not tell whether she was pleased or frightened.

When she returned to his side, she realized he had fallen back into slumber caused no doubt by the draught she had given him. As gently as she could, she dressed his wound, praying she would not awaken him and renew his discomfort.

When she was done she stared at his peaceful features. With infinite tenderness, she brushed the strands of raven hair from his cheek. And then she took a chance and dared to press a kiss to his smooth forehead.

_Sleep well, Eledhîren._

Glossary:  
tuilë and yavië - Quenya for spring and autumn  
tôr iuar – older brother  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
Eledhiren - my Elvenlord

_To be continued_…


	53. The Choices We Must Make 4

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
Five days later, Elladan was out in the drill yard honing his skills. His brother and friend chided him for getting back into training so soon but he was unmoved. Trouble could very well be upon them sooner than expected. He did not intend to be caught unprepared.

Nimeithel watched as he and Elrohir dueled with knives. Despite his injury, Elladan remained a formidable opponent. The match ended in a draw, leading Legolas to laud the older twin and tease the younger.

"If that is all you can manage with an Elf lately come from his sickbed, how in Arda are you going to defeat one who is well and whole?" Legolas commented with a smirk.

"Nay, I was only being gentle," protested Elrohir. "Would you have me be the cause of his relapse into illness? Nimeithel would string me up from the highest tree if she does not flay me alive first!"

Nimeithel blushed at his banter while amused laughter resounded around her. In the middle of a chuckle, Elrohir caught the almost guilty expression on her face and paused to ponder it. He traced her sneaked glances to his twin. The Elf-knight wondered.

oOoOoOo

Spring went by and summer soon reached its peak. The four companions had no lack of activities to indulge in though Nimeithel, chastened by what had happened to Elladan, no longer insisted on going along on patrol or hunts. She did, however, request that she be taught the rudiments of fighting that she be at least able to defend herself.

"Mother died defending our honor," she soberly told Elladan one fine day as they watched Elrohir and Legolas spar with sword and knife. "Had she not known how to wield a knife, we would have been despoiled ere Legolas arrived."

"You have been sheltered overmuch," Elladan agreed. "'Tis surprising for an Elf of Mirkwood."

Nimeithel sighed. "I suppose it comes of being an only daughter and the youngest as well." She glanced shyly at the Elf-lord. "Legolas is reluctant to teach me. Will you convince him to do so?"

Elladan smiled. "I will do better than that," he said. "_I_ will teach you."

Nimeithel blinked. "You?" she almost squeaked.

"Why so shocked?" he grinned. "I promise, I will not slice you up too much."

Nimeithel gulped. Nay, you will just make mincemeat of me, she thought frantically.

Will she, nill she, the Elf-princess found herself the fumbling student to Elladan's patient teacher. Though initially resistant to the suggestion, Legolas eventually acquiesced and Elladan wasted no time at all beginning Nimeithel's lessons. Before long, Elrohir started to train her as well and, at long last, Legolas decided to put in time to teach his sister the basics of archery.

She soon rued her request when she would retire each night a mass of aching muscles and protesting joints, some of which she did not even realize existed. How could any _elleth_ desire to be a warrior, she would groaningly think each time she sank into a hot bath to ease her sore body. Obviously they are misled into thinking it a charming profession, she would scowlingly conclude before whimpering as another ache made itself known.

Nevertheless, under the twins and her brother's able tutelage, she learned enough to wield sword and knife though she knew she would never be more than adequate. It was in archery, though, that her Silvan heritage became apparent for she soon became quite adept at it.

She was practicing one early morning by herself, intent on perfecting this martial skill that seemed to come to her much more easily than the others. Such was her surprise and discomfiture when she suddenly heard Elladan speak up just behind her.

"Your grip is too high," he murmured. "Here, let me show you."

She caught her breath as he came close and reached around her to adjust her grip on the bow. Faint crimson stains touched her cheeks as his scent teased her nostrils. For several weeks now that scent had beguiled her whenever they grappled with one weapon or another. It was utterly tantalizing to say the least. Nothing like the forest scent of a Wood-elf but bewitchingly evocative of the aromas of the hidden vale instead. Small wonder Legolas had swiftly surrendered to Elrohir that first night they lay together, she distractedly thought. The twins' scents alone were enough to undo anyone!

It was with relief that she felt him release her and move away. Any longer and she would have given herself away with some foolish action or remark. She glanced up at him to thank him only to have her words die before they left her lips.

He was looking at her in the oddest manner, his brow slightly creased and his eyes glittering darkly. She nearly forgot to breathe, so strong was the spell of his gray gaze. And then, he abruptly released her from his compelling eyes, and, with a curt nod, strode away. She stared after him in bewilderment.

The afternoon found the brethren and Legolas headed out for a dip in the Bruinen. As they followed the pebbled path to the river, they heard raised, agitated voices.

Rounding a small cluster of trees, they came upon Daurin and Enedrion in the middle of what looked like, for all intents and purposes, a lovers' quarrel. The two warriors were startled by their sudden appearance. Enedrion flushed then turned and fled into the concealment of the woods, unheeding of Daurin's calls to him. But none of the three had missed the utter despair on his usually stoic features.

Glorfindel's second-in-command looked miserable to say the least. Elladan placed a comforting hand on his arm and asked: "What has happened? What were you fighting about?"

The warrior swallowed hard. "I-I told him that I wished to end our relationship that I might woo Almáriel in full," he mumbled. "I did not realize – did not know he loved me so—" The Elf stopped, unable to continue. After a long pause, he shuddered and said dolorously: "I never meant to hurt him."

"I am sure you did not," Elladan said gently.

"But I did nonetheless," the Elf said remorsefully. "He did not deserve that."

"He did not," Elrohir frankly agreed. "'Tis a pity you did not anticipate this possibility when you took him and kept him as lover all these years."

"Elrohir!" Elladan exclaimed. "You are too harsh, _gwanneth_."— younger twin.

But Daurin shook his head and said: "Nay, 'tis the truth. I should have known how he felt after so long. Instead, I led him to believe... I am naught but an inconsiderate fool."

He turned and walked away, head bent in regret and despondency.

Elrohir watched the warrior return to the barracks, his eyes glittering with a little anger. "'Twas inevitable that someone would be hurt," he said tightly. "Enedrion's heartbreak might have been averted had Daurin been more forthright from the start."

Elladan nodded slowly, unable to disagree. "'Tis at times like this that I am glad I lack the intensity of your feelings, _muindor_"—brother—he admitted.

Legolas glanced at the brothers with brooding eyes. He kept silent. His lack of response drew Elrohir's attention and the younger twin looked at him wonderingly. He noted the expression on his friend's face.

"Calenlass? What ails you?" he softly asked.

Legolas started and returned his gaze. The prince looked deeply shaken. "So it was with Sirgon. As it was when _Naneth_ died," he whispered harshly. "And when your mother departed." He shuddered, remembering Sirgon's despair, his father's agony echoed later in Elrond's eyes. "Love is cruel. I will never love like that," he suddenly vowed. "I will not let my heart endure such grief!"

The twins stared at him.

"You cannot mean that, _mellon nîn_"—my friend—Elladan said. "The heart cannot be denied once it chooses its life's mate."

Legolas shook his head almost violently. "But I will deny it!" he said fiercely. "I will not give it away only to suffer from grief and pain. I have seen enough of others' sorrows to know I cannot bear it."

"Do not speak rashly, Legolas. You cannot know what the fates have in store for you. None of us can."

"Let the fates unleash what they will upon me," the archer declared. "So long as they leave my heart alone." He noted Elrohir's frown. "Do not try to dissuade me, Elrohir," he said sharply. "My heart is mine to give and I choose to give it to no one. From this day forth it is shut."

For the space of a moment, Elrohir regarded him somberly. Finally he spoke in a low voice. "And will you shut Elladan and me out as well?"

Legolas started then stared at the Elf-knight. His argent eyes were sad but understanding. He then glanced at Elladan and realized the sorrow was mirrored in the older twin's eyes. The prince felt guilt smite him that he should have hurt his dearest friends. "Nay, _gwedyr_, that love I will cleave to even more closely," he softly amended. "'Tis the binding of hearts and spirits I shun, not the bonds of brotherhood between friends. Elrohir, I feared to lose you then; I could not endure losing either of you now."

"You would never lose us, Legolas," the younger twin pointed out. "Whether you want it or not, you will always have our love."

Legolas smiled, warmed by the other's words. "'Tis is all the love I need," he replied. "But my heart I will keep."

Elrohir nodded resignedly. "'Tis your choice," he murmured.

He looked at his brother. Elladan stilled a start of consternation at the bleakness in the depths of his twin's eyes. But Elrohir's gaze also conveyed a clear desire not to discuss the matter and so the older twin was forced to set it aside for the present.

oOoOoOo

As summer slowly ran its course, so did Nimeithel's diffidence in weapons use give way to burgeoning confidence. Indeed, so satisfied was Elladan with her progress that he surprised her by asking her if she wished to join him and the others on a brief patrol of the easternmost borders of the woods along the Bruinen.

Flattered that he should think her capable enough to bring along, she accepted with alacrity. And firmly put her self-consciousness aside insofar as revealing tunics and tight breeches were concerned.

They expected little to happen that day. But, like any day in the all too uncertain present, things could and did happen. As they followed the tree-lined course of the Loudwater, the sound of frantic cries for help reached them. Spurring their steeds forward, they came upon a small party of outlaws chasing a young boy. Unhesitatingly, the Elves charged into battle.

Nimeithel held back, determined not to be a hindrance to the others. She did keep an anxious eye on her brother and the twins though common sense told her it was a waste of a good worry. The three were formidable in any battle. This was just a skirmish; a mere romp to such seasoned fighters. She tried to direct her attention elsewhere.

It was while she was perusing the other soldiers that she spotted the child once more. With a thrill of horror, she realized he had been driven to the very banks of the river by a knife-wielding brigand.

Without further ado, she sped toward him, drawing her sword as she ran. She swung it up just in time to block the bandit's downward stroke then, acting purely on instinct, brought it down hard, slicing through the man's shoulder. He cried out in agony and staggered back, dropping his weapon.

But the boy, already teetering on the edge of the high banks, lost his balance and toppled into the swift running water. He was swept away almost at once, screaming in terror as the cold waters drew him down now and again. Realizing the child did not know how to swim, Nimeithel dove in after him.

Like most Elves, she was a strong and natural swimmer and soon reached the floundering child. Grasping him by the scruff of his collar, she managed to hold him above water but found she could not fight the currents at the same time. Grabbing at a large boulder in the middle of the river, she desperately called for help.

In the midst of gutting his opponent, Elladan heard her cries. Seeing her predicament, he raced to the riverbank and dove into the chill waters. Powerful strokes brought him swiftly to Nimeithel. Reaching her, he quickly relieved her of the child.

"Can you swim back?" he asked.

"Without the child, yes!" she replied and proceeded to prove her capability.

Back on solid ground, they found the situation well in hand. Not a single bandit had escaped the Elves' charge. And thanks to Nimeithel, the child was safe and able to convey in full what had befallen him.

After donning dry clothes, Elladan joined Elrohir as he briefly questioned the child. Legolas, on the other hand, saw to his sister's welfare. Reassured that she was well, he left her that she might change into fresh clothing behind a stout tree. That done, she settled on the grass, her pack by her side, toweling her hair dry.

She looked up, startled, when Elladan appeared and knelt at her side. He handed her a simple flask and bade her drink from it.

She obediently complied, taking a mouthful of the mead-like liquor. Almost immediately, warmth suffused her body.

"What in Arda—?" she gasped.

Elladan chuckled. "Has Legolas never told you about our cordial?"

"Oh. So this is the famous _miruvor_," she said. "I must say I am impressed. 'Tis far more potent than I'd expected."

Again, Elladan chuckled before taking a swig of the cordial himself. Afterwards, he regarded her intently.

"That was brave of you to go in and help that child," he quietly told her.

Slight color stained the Elf-maid's cheeks but she strove to maintain an air of nonchalance.

"I could not let him drown," she answered, shrugging. She winced as the motion caused her shoulders to ache. "Ai, my poor muscles. I did not realize the current would be so strong. How is the boy?"

"He will be all right. 'Twas fortunate you saved him. He was looking for help, Nimeithel. His village was raided and some women were taken captive. We must leave as soon as possible if we are to catch up with the rest of the band."

Nimeithel nodded and tried to brush her now unruly hair into some semblance of neatness. Elladan watched her frustration for a while then smiled and said: "Here, let me help."

He moved behind her and, to her confusion, plaited her hair swiftly and deftly. She blushed furiously for there was a familiarity in the act that made her shiver with feelings she did not dare examine. Mercifully, in what seemed like a matter of seconds, he was done and no longer did bothersome strands of hair brush against her face.

"That was quick," she managed to comment.

"A warrior cannot waste time on his hair," he pointed out. Noticing her frown, he chuckled lightly and said: "Do not worry, it suits you."

Still unsure, Nimeithel dug into her pack and brought out a small silver object. Elladan burst out laughing when he realized what it was.

"A mirror?" he grinned. "You brought a mirror with you out here?"

Nimeithel scowled. "I am still an _elleth_"—Elf-maid—she retorted with as much dignity as she could muster before studying her reflection.

"Did I not say it suits you?" he teasingly chided her.

Nimeithel had to admit that he was right. Not only did the style show off the fine angles of her face, it was also very practical, effectively holding back her hair from her face. Then remembering that it was Elladan who had arranged it so, she blushed again. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry as color washed over her cheeks.

"'Tis strange to think that you braided my hair," she murmured with some embarrassment.

Elladan smiled and rose. Before he walked off he grinned at her once more. "Who knows, you may do the same for me one day," he said lightly.

Nimeithel stared at his retreating back. His words made her actually imagine what it would be like to run her hands through his raven hair, feeling the midnight strands between her fingers. "If you only knew how much I would love to!" she muttered with a scowl before gathering her things and following him.

They had little more trouble pursuing the remaining bandits and dispensing with them. To Nimeithel's relief, none of the human females had yet been touched though that had clearly been their captors' intent. After escorting the women back to their village and their grateful families, the Elves returned to Rivendell.

Henceforth, Nimeithel wore her locks as Elladan had plaited them. What he made of the gesture, she could not guess. But she arranged her hair thusly because it obviously pleased him and that pleased her greatly in turn.

oOoOoOo

All too soon, or so it seemed, summer ended and autumn made its appearance. With the turn of the seasons came the closing of Legolas and Nimeithel's visit to Rivendell.

"Time flies too swiftly when one is enjoying one's self," Legolas growled as he and Elrohir made their way up the hills behind the Last Homely House. It was the twins' begetting day and, as was his wont, the woodland prince always awaited its passing before departing for home. "When will you come to Mirkwood again, _gwador_?"—sworn brother?

Elrohir shrugged. "I cannot say for certain. With Arwen in Lórien, Father desires for us to remain close by. Though there is the possibility of some hunting come next spring should the Orcs dare to encroach on our territory again," he added. At the beginnings of a scowl on his friend's face, he said quietly: "We will keep it brief. I will not break my promise to you."

Legolas regarded him solemnly for a spell. Then he nodded and they went on, wending their way up a hidden trail that led to a wide tree-shaded shelf overlooking the valley. Here they sat and gazed upon Imladris in comradely silence.

The vale was awash in the gold and browns of autumn. Already, it was cooler and the bracing breezes would soon give way to chill ones. Of course, Rivendell, sheltered by the power of Vilya, never experienced anything worse than the mildest of winters though Elrond did not entirely shield his realm from all inclement weather either. The two Elves drew in their fill of sweet, pine-scented air.

The archer sighed at length. "Just take care, Elrohir," he softly said. "Do not let your anger rule you." He glanced at the Elf-knight, then took his hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "I always worry that you will heedlessly run on your death. I could not bear to lose you."

"I am never so heedless as to foolishly court ruin," Elrohir assured him. "I have not forgotten your counsel all those years ago when first you hunted with us." He squeezed Legolas' hand in turn. "And you are too precious a friend to go without for too long. I regret our prolonged absences, Legolas. 'Tis time lost that would have been better spent in your company."

Legolas smiled at the tender utterance. "Then do not waste much more of it in vengeful endeavors. Come to Mirkwood soonest, Elf-knight."

The twin's eyes gleamed with argent fire. "As you wish, Calenlass."

oOoOoOo

The Mirkwood siblings departed before the first full chill descended on the vale. There was still much to say and too little time to say it. And so they made do with gentle words of parting, confident that they would be together again ere too long.

As the youngest children of Thranduil rode out of Imladris, the brethren felt themselves bereft. A shared look between them silently affirmed that they would indeed not wait for too many years to pass before following their friends to their forest realm.

Greenwood the Great beckoned. They would heed its summons.

Glossary:  
gwedyr – sworn brothers

_To be continued_…


	54. The Choices We Must Make 5

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
Mirkwood, _laer_ T.A. 2782  
The two Elves darted swiftly through the treetops, nimbly leaping from one branch to another, running along leafy limbs scarcely larger than the circumferences of their own arms, occasionally swinging down from towering giants to their less lofty cousins. So graceful were they and so easy did they make the exercise appear that any mortal being not well-versed in the varied elven kindreds, who witnessed their exuberant play, might be led to believe it a skill common to all the Firstborn.

They came to the great clearing before the halls of the Elvenking of Northern Mirkwood. Without missing a beat, the two dropped to the ground simultaneously, landing with feline lightness and precision. The golden-haired Elf glanced at his grey-eyed companion; they both burst into merry laughter. Still chuckling, Legolas slipped an arm through Elrohir's and began to lead him towards his father's delved palace.

Both were clothed in the green and brown of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm. But while Legolas sported the flowing tresses and tiny braids of a Mirkwood warrior, Elrohir could have passed for one of the horse-lords of Rohan with his single thick plait were it not for his dark tresses, the age-old wisdom in his eyes and his uncommon beauty.

"You are as agile and sure-footed as any Wood-elf, _gwador_"—sworn brother—Legolas praised his friend.

The warrior smiled, pleased with the compliment. "'Tis due to our stays in Lórien I warrant," he said. "Elladan and I have frequented the Golden Wood far more oft than we used to these past many years."

"So fortunate for the Galadhrim to have had the pleasure of your company then," Legolas remarked a little tartly. "And obviously a goodly helping of it."

Elrohir's smile faded. It was but five years since Legolas' visit to Rivendell. In that time, the prince had not been sanguine that the twins would be able to keep their promise to come to Mirkwood before long. He'd therefore been delighted when he received word of their imminent arrival. At Elrohir's request, Arwen had shortened her stay in Lothlórien and returned to the vale to keep their father company.

Legolas had been well pleased that they'd been able to keep their promise to him. But it was also apparent, as Elrohir noted now, that the prince's resentment over their prior negligence had not completely abated.

"Calenlass? 'Tis not the first time you have expressed your displeasure at our lengthy absences," he said quietly. "If you still resent us for this, please be open with me now. It pains me to know we offended you so grievously."

Legolas glanced at his friend, noted the other's pensive countenance. He sighed.

"'Tis only that I felt you had forsaken me," he admitted. "You in particular, Elrohir. The number of messages you thought to send were so few and their contents oft inadequate for my needs. I could not help fearing at times that you had – that you had found another more worthy of your regard."

"More worthy?" Elrohir frowned his bemusement.

"Well, yes. You are of a line revered throughout Elfdom while I am just a simple Wood-elf for all my sire's lordly heritage." Legolas bit his lip and looked away. "I was honored when you befriended me but, I confess, I have wondered what you saw in me that you did."

The twin's stare turned incredulous. He held back, bringing them both to a stop, and compelled the archer to face him.

"You questioned that?" he said disbelievingly. "You who have proven more great-hearted and noble than many an Elda returned from Aman? Legolas, you are more than worthy of any one's regard! Certainly, you have mine in full measure and you always will. Greater than any other, I promise you." He hesitated then continued softly. "There are times I esteem you more that I do my own kin. Even Elladan."

Legolas gazed at him in rampant relief. "Then I am not... You have not..."

"Found another in your stead? Nay, _malthernil_. There is none in all Eä who could possibly replace you in my affections."

Legolas broke into a radiant smile. "I am glad that you feel thusly," he said. "I had thought... Ai, Elrohir, I will hold you to your promise never to be parted from me for much longer than a few years!"

This fervent declaration elicited such a look of brilliant elation from the warrior that it caused the archer's heart to skip a beat. But before he could inquire as to the cause of his friend's warmer than usual reaction, he caught sight of the great stone doors of the palace opening. Several _ellyth_ in court attire emerged led by a rather flamboyant figure. This one carried herself with a predatory arrogance more befitting a huntress than a lady of Thranduil's court. Legolas grimaced in distaste and hurriedly hauled Elrohir back into the shadows of the closely packed trees.

"Legolas, what—?"

The prince nodded in the direction of the ladies as they crossed the bridge. Elrohir peered at them, taking note in particular of the Elf-maiden Legolas had earlier looked upon with such dislike. A quick glance at the prince's scornful expression confirmed his suspicion as to the reason for his friend's precipitate retreat.

"So, you, too, have known the, uh, charms of Lady Nelleth," Elrohir said with a smirk.

"Charms?" Legolas snorted. "I would not dignify what she does with that word. I was fortunate to make it out of her chamber intact!" He suddenly stiffened and eyed Elrohir suspiciously. "_I, too?_ What do you—?" At Elrohir's wicked grin, he exclaimed: "You bedded her? How could you stand her?"

The Elf-knight shrugged. "Once I had her measure 'twas a simple matter to match and best her. But I do not care to repeat the experience. She is too rapacious for my taste."

Legolas did not know whether to scowl or laugh. "For your taste? I thought you had no limits when it came to bed-play."

"I do not so long as 'tis not forbidden by the Eldar," Elrohir pointed out. "But Nelleth... she cares not for the needs of others. 'Tis her desires that count, her pleasure, her completion. She does not couple with her partners but rather ravages them if she can."

"I gather she did not succeed with you then?" Legolas commented.

"As I said, I bested her. I do not think she will dare approach me again."

"And that disappoints you, I suppose," the archer said somewhat peevishly to Elrohir's surprise.

"Not at all," the twin objected. "As I said, I do not desire to lie with her again. She is far too selfish a partner to warrant more than one bedding from any sensible Elf." When Legolas continued to look skeptical, he remarked: "Why do you doubt that I should feel this way? It matters to me that any I couple with should know as much pleasure as I or even greater if it is within my power."

Legolas suddenly colored. "Aye, that is true," he murmured. "You – you have always ensured mine."

Elrohir's eyes widened at the archer's discomfiture. His earlier elation quickly seeped away. "Forgive me," he said tightly. "'Twas not my intention to trouble you by reminding you of what passed between us."

Legolas looked up quickly, catching the faintest hint of pain in Elrohir's voice. When the Elf-knight would have turned to walk away, he grasped his wrist, detaining him.

"'Twas not my intention to have you think that I was displeased," he softly said. "I am not, Elrohir. I never have been though – though it still confuses me that – that I should feel thusly with you. And only you it would seem." When Elrohir did not reply but only looked at him with suddenly veiled eyes, Legolas pressed on, anxious to explain his feelings. "I find it passing strange that we can be... intimate with each other yet remain the best of friends." Legolas could not help an uncomfortable blush at this point but he continued. "I could never share my bed with any of my maiden friends and still be close to them. But with you..." He lifted his hands in a gesture of bafflement. "Mayhap 'tis because I trust you so utterly that this is possible," he finally suggested.

Elrohir sighed and averted his eyes to stare unseeingly into the distance. Legolas thought he'd never seen his friend look so lost or depleted.

"Elrohir, what is it?" he pleaded. "What did I say that upset you?"

At length, the Elf-warrior quietly said: "I only desire your happiness, Calenless. Whatever it may take." Legolas stared at him, mystified by his cryptic answer. But Elrohir shook his head and added, "Think no more of this. 'Tis of little importance. Come, the others await us."

His demeanor brooked no protest or question. After a space, Legolas nodded and fell into step beside him. But he could not dispel the feeling that what they had spoken of was _not_ of little importance despite Elrohir's claim to the contrary. Certainly not when the Elf-knight's behavior had changed so abruptly. Part of him longed to find out what had disheartened Elrohir so deeply. The other part feared that it would be something in which he would be powerless to help this dearest of all friends.

oOoOoOo

While her brother grappled with one twin's enigmatic behavior, Nimeithel struggled with the other's.

Was it her imagination or was Elladan avoiding her? It had not been so when they first arrived in Mirkwood. He'd been as friendly and attentive as he'd always been though, admittedly, he spent far more time with his brother and hers. That was to be expected of course.

Even in Rivendell, she'd passed much of her stay there with the women of the household. She was no warrior-maid who could easily fit in with the company the twins kept or indulge indefinitely in the strenuous activities they favored.

But he had sought her company frequently enough to gladden her no end. Not to mention satisfy her secret desire to be near him as often as she could. And so she'd had the bliss of his companionship for several weeks running. Until...

What had she said or done to merit his disdain of her company? Worse, he would now ignore her when a meeting between them was unavoidable. Such near uncivil treatment almost brought her to tears on several occasions but she proudly held them back. Come what may, she was the daughter of Thranduil. Her distraught reaction in Rivendell had been the result of coming up so brutally against certain realities of which she'd had little experience. But now, she stubbornly maintained her composure, determined to do her father and brothers proud. Even if the older twin's behavior hurt her dreadfully.

When he did pay attention to her anew, it proved a most painful encounter. And an unexpectedly enlightening one.

She had requested Elrohir to help her practice her newly learned martial skills. Once back home, she'd come up against her father's resistance to her continued training in the battle-arts. When it came to his only daughter, the Elvenking was protective to a fault. Superstitious as it may have seemed, Thranduil half feared that to let Nimeithel learn some of the ways of warriors was to invite the possibility of her actually having to be one in times of conflict.

Nimeithel understood her father's apprehension and skewed reasoning and loved him for it but she chafed at the difficulties his opposition put in her way. With Thranduil's disapproval made clear, Legolas had then become reluctant to press on with her lessons. And if her own brother declined to train her, it was hardly meet for the other warriors, even the she-captain Tathariel, to do so. And so she'd frustratedly worked on her own, knowing she would not progress much without a seasoned tutor's instructions.

The twins had had no compunction about flouting Thranduil's wishes in this matter. Indeed, Elladan had initially been the one to do it in the first weeks after they arrived in Mirkwood. But when he'd abruptly started avoiding her, she'd asked Elrohir to take over. The younger twin acceded to her request, turning a sympathetic countenance upon her not to mention a disconcertingly knowing look.

It seemed Elrohir knew what lay within her heart. But he did not attempt to pry into her affairs. Instead, he began meeting with her each early morn in the herb garden behind the stables. Given her father's opposition, it was more prudent not to flaunt her rebellion or his complicity by practicing in a more private setting. The garden was seldom visited save by the royal cooks if and when they needed a fresh supply of herbs for the palace larders.

It was just as well that no one showed up to watch her spar with the younger twin except for an occasional furtive visit by Legolas. Shorn of proper supervision in the five years since her return from Imladris, her skills had lamentably diminished. It would have been humiliating to train before an audience other than her brother. At least, he did not tease her beyond bearing.

And Elrohir was kind and patient and understanding. With him, she did not feel embarrassed by her poor showing. If anything, he made her feel more confident about her abilities with his reassuring words and gentle criticism. He went up immeasurably in her esteem and she began to think Legolas blind or mule-headed or both not to realize what a splendid mate the Elf-knight would make, Mirkwood prohibitions notwithstanding.

Then one day, Elladan showed up unbidden. Before his twin could start her instructions for the morn, he suggested that she spar with him instead. Nimeithel was completely unnerved. To be so close to the Elf-lord again...!

At the start of the bout, she managed to hold her own. But Elladan suddenly turned ruthless and Nimeithel found herself earnestly fending off his attack. She vaguely heard Elrohir shouting at his twin to ease up, reminding him that the princess was no battle-hardened veteran. But Elladan paid him no heed. All uncalled for, he tripped her and she found herself on the grass, gasping for air and Elladan straddling her hips, his sword at her throat.

After taking in her shocked expression for a moment, he rose and tossed the sword to Elrohir. "If I'd been the enemy she would have been dead," he said in a hard tone to his brother. On that note, he departed.

Elrohir helped Nimeithel to her feet. Shaken, she looked at him apologetically. "I did not mean for him to be angry with you," she murmured.

Elrohir shook his head. "'Twas not for me that he uttered those words," he quietly corrected her.

Nimeithel swallowed hard. "You mean they were directed at me," she said, her voice catching. "He thinks I'm incompetent."

"He is not angry, only concerned," Elrohir averred. At Nimeithel's disbelieving glance, he pointed out: "He worries that you may not be able to hold your own in battle should you be forced into it. He cares about your welfare, Nimeithel. Indeed, he cares too much."

Nimeithel sighed. "I wish I could believe that," she said rather forlornly. "But he has been so distant with me these past many weeks." She looked beseechingly at the younger twin. "Elrohir? Have I – have I said anything, done anything that has set him against me?"

He shook his head. "Nay, 'tis not you that has led him to behave thusly but his own feelings."

"I do not understand."

"I cannot speak for Elladan. 'Tis not my right. But this much I can say. He is as I am. His heart is not given lightly or easily."

She stared at him. "Is yours given then, Elrohir?" she asked softly.

He gave her a smile of such melancholic sweetness that it fairly smote her.

"Does Elladan know?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I have not confided this in him though I am certain he suspects."

"Why, _meldiren_?"—my friend—she pressed.

"Would you have your brother's pity should he discover your desire?" he countered. "A desire that will likely never be fulfilled?"

She fell silent, comprehending his pride, marveling at his forbearance.

"If 'tis any comfort to you," she finally said hesitantly, "I would be happy _and _proud to call you brother."

His grey eyes lit with pleasure at her pronouncement.

"Mayhap you shall have that chance," he said quipped. "You need only declare your heart, Nimeithel," he added on a more serious note. "If you have the courage to do so."

She cocked a disbelieving eye at him. "Is that the way of the Noldor?" she queried. "Is it your female-folk who do the wooing?"

He grinned at her resilience and renewed spunk. "Nay, our traditions are as yours when 'tis a matter of courtship between Elf-male and Elf-maid. But there are always exceptions to the rule. If you do not care to wait overlong, I would counsel you to take matters into your own hands."

She considered him thoughtfully. "And will you take matters into yours?" she questioned.

The _mithril_-hued eyes turned wistful. "When the time is ripe," the Elf-knight replied. "If it ever is."

She gazed at him with sisterly affection and sympathy.

"Thank you, Elrohir," she near whispered. "I pray the Powers will bless you ere long with your desire. If ever there was one who deserved to win his just reward, 'tis you."

He blushed charmingly under her reverent regard.

"Come now, you are much improved whatever my brother may say," Elrohir said to dispel the emotionally fraught mood. "Let us continue."

Nimeithel beamed, much heartened by their conversation. "Very well." She raised her sword once more.

Glossary:  
laer – Sindarin for summer  
malthernil – golden prince  
ellyth – Elf-maids  
meet – suitable or fitting (_archaic_)

_To be continued_…


	55. The Choices We Must Make 6

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI  
_firith_ T.A. 2782  
Late autumn wrought its changes on Mirkwood even as the twins' stay neared its completion. The forest canopy thinned as trees shed their lush foliage, the air grew chillier as winter awaited its turn and the beasts of the once green wood steadily decreased in number as many sought shelter from the coming frost. It was at this last that Nimeithel decided to follow the Elf-knight's counsel and take matters into her inexperienced but willing hands.

She approached Elladan one crisp evening as he sat beneath a leaf-bare tree in the now burnished gardens behind the royal pavilion. One might have taken her as bold considering his continued aloofness with her in the past weeks. But a peek at the shaking knees beneath her concealing skirts would have just as promptly disabused one of that notion. She was shocked by her own temerity but something more primitive drove her forth, overtaking her fright.

He glanced up in some startlement as she came up to him then gracefully sank down to sit by his side, her skirts forming a lush pool of fabric about her. Thankfully, he did not at once rise and walk away as she had feared but only looked at her inquiringly.

"I would have us on good terms, Elladan, before you depart," she blurted out, keeping her gaze on him steady.

He went still, clearly taken unawares by her beginning statement. And then he sighed and nodded.

"Forgive me my inexcusable conduct," he quietly said. "I should not have treated you so basely."

She was tempted to ask why he had done so if only to confirm Elrohir's summation of his motives. But she held her tongue on this, instinct warning her that he was not prepared to be forthcoming about his reasons and that to press him would only scuttle this needed discussion between them.

"I will forgive you but only if you listen to what I have to say," she said. "You need do nothing more but hear me out. 'Tis all I ask."

He peered at her curiously then leaned back against the tree. "Very well, I will listen," he replied.

She drew a deep breath then plunged headlong into the uncertain waters of reversed courtship. She was mettlesome in this if nothing else.

"If I was distressed by your inattention..."

"My avoidance," he corrected, refusing her gracious reduction of the severity of his misconduct.

She paused a moment then continued. "If it troubled me, 'twas because I thought you set against me by some misdeed of mine. It – it hurt that I might have lost your – whatever regard you bore me." She took another calming inhalation of bracing air. "A kind soul assured me 'twas not the case and I – I have chosen to believe him. Which is why I am here now, Elladan. I would offer you a way to make amends to me for your negligence."

His curious stare turned substantially wary. "And what way is this?" he queried carefully.

She forced herself to look him in the eye. "You are long in experience and great in skill in more than war and the council chambers," she said. "In that area I know precious little for I have found no one whom I could trust with the delicate task of – of tutoring me." She saw his eyes widen incredulously as he comprehended where she was taking this talk. She rushed on before her reserves of courage should run out. "If you would be my teacher in this, I shall absolve you of your trespass against me." She swallowed hard at his utterly stunned expression. "I do not ask this lightly, Elladan. It is my dearest wish. Please, will you not grant it?"

The Elf-warrior was rendered thoroughly speechless by such unwonted brazenness. Yet he was not left so witless that he did not seek to discern the reason behind this seemingly egregious offer. He turned a searching gaze on her.

Nimeithel flushed painfully when Elladan stared at her with disconcerting intensity, storm blue eyes seeming to pierce her to her very soul. When he did not reply for the longest while, she thought him offended by her request. Humiliated, she made to rise saying: "I am not to your liking. I am sorry for troubling you."

A strong hand caught her arm, compelling her to sit once more. "I did not say that," Elladan quietly responded. "Indeed, I must confess, you are too much to my liking."

The Elven princess started. "Then why—?"

"What do you know of the choice of the Peredhil?" Elladan asked somberly.

Nimeithel frowned, recalling her brother's tale regarding Elrond's legacy. "Legolas told me that you have the choice to be of Elfkind or Mortal-kind," she said.

"But the choice is contingent on our father's presence here in Middle-earth," he explained. "When he departs for the Blessed Realm, Elrohir and I will need to decide whether we will go with him or remain in these Hither Lands."

"Must you actually take ship with him?" Nimeithel asked curiously.

Elladan sighed. "Mithrandir has indicated that we may remain behind if we make our choice before _Adar_ leaves. I wish this were so. Middle-earth is the only home I have ever known. 'Tis Valinor that would be a land of exile for me should we choose to seek the Western Shores."

He reached up a hand to stroke Nimeithel's finely sculpted cheek. His touch sent a thrill up her spine that left her near breathless. "I have never given my heart to any. I cannot hold anyone to the vagaries of our choice. How can I ask any Elf to bind him or herself to me when I might forsake our kindred and choose to abide by the gift of the One? What then of my immortal spouse? I will not leave anyone to grieve and fade away because of me. Certainly not you, _pen vîreb_."

Nimeithel stared at him, disbelieving of his endearment. For a moment she fell silent, realizing with the wisdom of one who truly loved that she would not be able to sway him. He would not bind himself in that manner for so long as the choice loomed before him. His honor, nay, his pure heart would not permit such a transgression against one he loved. _Treasured one._ Did he then care for her? Were her hopes not in vain after all?

"If you will not have my love, then have me, Elladan," she softly said. At his protest, she placed a finger to his lips. "If I cannot have your heart, then let me have your loving at least. For I am yours though no vows have been spoken. If I cannot be your _bereth_ I would be your _melethril_ if you will have me."

He stared at her almost imploringly. "You could not have made a more ill-founded choice," he said in a hushed voice. "You deserve better, Nimeithel. You deserve one of whom you can be confident will always be there for you."

She smiled sweetly at him, stealing his breath away. "As if the heart can choose whom it may love," she whispered. "There is only you, Elladan."

He made one last stab at dissuading her. "What would your father say? Or Legolas?" he said. "They would accuse me of corrupting you."

"Nay, you know they would not," she countered. Her smile had faded and her eyes now narrowed with sorrow. "You strive to turn me away," she whispered painfully. "Yet you would share yourself with so many others. Even with – with Melthoron."

"How do you know that?' he asked in shock.

"I overheard you tell Legolas of it," she said.

"'Twas a lesson dealt, Nimeithel, not my heart's yearning."

"But you did share yourself with him. As you refuse to do with me. I am indeed not to your liking."

She hurriedly stumbled to her feet, her heart breaking. But in the next instant she was swept into his powerful arms, enfolded in his embrace, and a hand cupped her chin, compelling her to raise her head. When she did so, she was caught in a searing kiss that banished all thoughts of flight or pain from her mind.

She melted against him, unable to do anything but respond to his demanding lips. Hers were peremptorily tasted, then hungrily pried apart. She moaned as her mouth was invaded then pillaged until she was shaking like a young beech in a gale. When he released her unbidden, she was compelled to lean against him, so bereft of balance or strength did his kiss leave her.

"Not to my liking?" he almost growled. "I have wanted you for years, Nimeithel! 'Tis only your kinship to Legolas that has kept your virtue safe from me."

She gasped against his chest at his unexpected words. Striving for calm, she lifted shining eyes to his gaze. "I do not wish to keep it safe from you," she whispered. "I would make a gift of it to you if only you would accept it. I love you, _Eledhîren_."—my Elvenlord.

Her declaration, her endearment, her joyous countenance – all had their part in undoing Elladan. Wordlessly, his eyes riveted on her, he lifted her easily into his arms and bore her to his room. Her heart pounding with mingled elation and maidenly trepidation, Nimeithel buried her burning face in his chest.

She almost swooned when he set her down once they were within the privacy of his room. She'd never set foot within his chamber; not once in all the centuries he and Elrohir had visited Greenwood. But now, here she was, and for the most profound and life-changing of reasons.

He gently pulled her into his arms, drew her once more into the maelstrom of his heart-stopping kisses while his hands reached up and lazily undid the tiny plaits in her dark hair. Freed of their constraints, her tresses flowed loosely about her shoulders and down her back. Then slowly he unlaced her gown, doing it with such practiced ease she could not help wondering how often he had undressed other Elves before her. But the thought fled her mind as the last lacing came undone and the garment slid from her shoulders to spread around her ankles leaving her clad in naught but her thin silken shift. That soon followed in the gown's wake and she shivered as she stood before him bare as the day she was born.

She shook visibly as he took her hands and raised them to the clasps of his tunic, silently inviting her to undress him.

With shaking fingers, she managed to undo the fastenings on his tunic before timidly pushing the garment from his shoulders. Unable to look at him, she proceeded to unlace his shirt, her hands becoming more and more uncooperative as she attended to the last tie. Her breathing quickened when she realized he was undoing his breeches. She closed her eyes, unable to watch as he shed the last of his garments.

A finger slipped under her chin and lifted it and she was compelled to look at him. She swallowed hard. It was different from when she'd guarded his sleep while he lay recovering from an arrow wound in the healing rooms of Rivendell. Elbereth! Profoundly, unarguably different!

Here was vitality and virility in the flesh multiplying his already incomparable comeliness threefold. She could not quite stifle a moan of desire while she appreciatively perused his formidable form. As he was perusing hers, she realized with a tight shudder, his eyes raking her body unashamedly.

Feeling more than a little insecure in the face of such breathtaking male beauty, she could not help worrying that he was not as eager about their imminent intimacy as she was.

"You are not doing this just to please me, are you?" she shakily asked.

He took her hand and kissed it, sending a bolt of pleasure up her arm. He guided her to the bed.

"Never doubt my desire for you," he whispered as he eased her down, his body following hers closely.

And then he was all over her and upon her and in her. She was his to do with as he pleased. Such was their shared hunger that he did not shun even the most intimate of explorations nor did she resist or protest them. Such was his skill that she felt little fear and experienced minimal discomfort at this, her first undoing. And such was her love that all she desired was to give him what he sought of her no matter what it entailed.

He unearthed all her hidden passion, coaxed from her all the loving he knew she possessed, taught her what it meant for two Elves to join in the love-act. But he was taught as well. For one thing he had yet to learn despite all his years of experience in bed-play and that was to couple in love.

When their bodies became as one, he felt a surge of passion the likes of which he had never known before. For the first time, not only his body knew the pleasure of completion but also his heart and spirit. It was almost so excruciating in its intensity that he hoarsely called out her name at the moment of his release. He saw his rapture reflected in her glazed eyes, heard it resound in her moaned cries, felt it reverberate in her wantonly writhing form. And then they were falling into the sweet haze of fulfillment, lips still clinging in intimate embrace.

As they lay together, still entwined, awaiting the calming of their senses, Elladan gazed at the one Elf who had accomplished what he'd once thought an impossibility. His heart urged him to declare his feelings at once. His mind, however, counseled caution. There were still matters that needed to be resolved before he could ask her to commit herself to him. Sighing he held her closer, wondering when that time would come.

He heard her soft mewl of contentment and chuckled. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her gaze soft and devoted.

"Had I known how wonderful this can be, I would not have waited this long to rid myself of my virtue," she murmured.

Elladan laughed softly, entertained as always by her wit.

"Had I known how you felt, I would not have waited this long to relieve you of it," he tenderly teased.

She giggled. "'Twas worth the wait," she purred. "I could not have asked for more."

His eyes darkened warningly. "Mayhap you should."

"Should what?"

"Ask for more."

He sealed his mouth to hers while his hands began to map her body once again. Before long, she did not even have the wherewithal to remember what it was he'd suggested much less give voice to it at all.

It was near midnight when he escorted her to her apartments. Much as she would have liked to remain in his arms until dawn, prudence told her it was not wise. None would think askance of their princess returning to her room after a late night. But if any were to see her creeping back at the break of day – that would be unseemly for one of her station.

Elladan opened her door for her. Before she slipped in, she looked at him, the sweetest smile on her roseate lips, her eyes sparkling with all the affection she held within her. This evidence of her feelings for him near took his breath away.

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Her countenance glowed even more radiantly.

"I love you, _Eledhîren_," she whispered as she had in the gardens earlier.

Like words teetered on the tip of his tongue, so strong was the temptation to return her tenderness in kind. Elladan clamped down on the urge.

"I am honored," he murmured. With a last smile, he walked away.

Her gaze dimmed at his less than ardent response, her smile turned tremulous. She hastened into her chamber lest he look back and see the suspicious brightness in her eyes. She had asked and he had granted no more than that he share himself with her. She would not, could not now demand anything further of him.

oOoOoOo

Elladan glanced up when his twin entered his chamber without knocking, a sign that there was something urgent he wished to discuss with him. He smiled and straightened up from his chore. His bed was covered with an assortment of personal belongings, all ready to be packed. Outside, the sun was already lowering as the last day of their visit came to a close. The brethren would depart Mirkwood the following morn.

"So, what weighty matter disturbs your peace, _gwanneth_?"—younger twin?—he inquired with a grin.

To his surprise, Elrohir did not respond but only frowned reprovingly at him.

"Elrohir, what troubles you?" he asked, slightly alarmed.

"You know that Nimeithel loves you," the Elf-knight bluntly stated.

Elladan was taken aback. He stared at his twin wonderingly.

"Aye, she told me," he admitted.

"When?"

"Yestereve."

"And?"

"And what? What passed between us is—"

"None of my business," Elrohir calmly finished for him. "I care not about that, _muindor_. But what I would know is what you told her."

Elladan drew his breath in sharply. His silence confirmed Elrohir's suspicions.

"For one who has declared her heart's desire, Nimeithel's demeanor this day has been markedly... subdued," he pointed out. "I suspect 'tis because it has not been answered in full. Has it, _gwaniaur_? Again, silence was his answer. "Why have you not told her how you truly feel?" Elrohir quietly asked.

Elladan turned away for a spell. At length, he faced his twin once more and sighed. "Our choice still looms before us," he said. "I do not wish to hold her to any promise to me."

"One might argue that she is reason enough for you to make your choice now," Elrohir pointed out.

"'Tis not that simple," Elladan countered. "Our _Edain_ heritage is as seductive as our Elven one. You know this. You have felt its call as keenly."

"Aye, that I have," Elrohir conceded. "But you were never one to heed it before. Why now?"

"Things have changed, Elrohir. I have changed."

The older twin's eyes brightened with the memories of vengeance-steeped days in the wild amidst the welcome carnage of slaughtered Orcs, the exhilaration of adventures in far-flung places so different from what they had always known, the lure of camaraderie and exultation of battle amongst impetuous, exasperating, utterly endearing, stout-hearted mortal warriors. He let the images flow freely, allowed his brother access to his thoughts and emotions. Elrohir recognized them and understood all too well for he knew them himself.

"After all we have seen and done, the thought of an eternity of – of tedious tranquility and overbearing quiet in Aman no longer holds as much allure for me as it once did," Elladan said. "I once questioned your attraction to our mortal heritage but now I comprehend it. The pull of our human blood has awakened in me. I am no longer so certain of my course."

Elrohir eyed him thoughtfully. "It seems you have kept secrets from me," he remarked.

"And you have not?" the older twin retorted.

"Aye, I have, and I will not apologize for it," Elrohir coolly replied.

Elladan snorted. "Then what else is there to say?" he said. "You have my reason for leaving the words unsaid. 'Twould be inconsiderate otherwise."

"And you deem it considerate to leave her in the dark?"

"Elrohir! What would you have of me?" Elladan snapped, feeling not a little exasperated with his brother's unexpected needling. "I have already told you. I cannot hold her to me when 'tis uncertain if I will cleave to our kindred or not! 'Tis reason enough to keep my silence."

"Nay, brother, 'tis not reason enough to withhold what you know is already hers." He paused; Elladan noted the indecision in his brother's eyes. Then Elrohir seemed to make up his mind and he added quietly: "You cannot possibly wish my fate upon her."

Elladan started then stared at his twin. Saw the silent pain in the twilight eyes, the once well-veiled anguish. He drew in a harsh breath. Elrohir bristled at the kindling ruth in his brother's gaze.

"Show me no pity, Elladan," he said fiercely. "I will not have it. Not even from you!"

The Elf-warrior shook his head helplessly.

"I had hoped your feelings did not run true, _tôr nîn_"—my brother—he said, his voice catching. "But if they do... why do you hide them from him? Why do you not follow your own counsel and tell him how you feel?"

"Because he does not return my love as Nimeithel does yours," Elrohir pointed out, ire giving way to sorrow. "I am his friend, nothing more. Furthermore, he is still distressed by our past intimacy. He shies at even the most oblique reference to it," he said at Elladan's disbelieving reaction. "And now that he has chosen to close his heart... To ask more of him might very well end what we do share." He swallowed painfully. "I would still have his friendship. I will not take the risk of losing even that. It would be... it would be the end of me."

Elladan felt his throat tighten at this evidence of his brother's deep-seated passion. To have suspected it was one thing. To have it confirmed and bear witness to the hopelessness and desolation with which it was conveyed... Mutely, he reached out and hugged the younger twin. "Ai, why is it that you must suffer so?"

Elrohir held him as closely. "I chose this path. I will follow it wherever it may lead me," he staunchly replied. He pulled away and looked keenly into his brother's eyes. "But Nimeithel need not tread the same road as I, Elladan. If you truly care for her, you will spare her the uncertainty. Believe me, _gwaniuar_, 'tis agony to have but a taste of one's desire and not know if that is all one will ever have." He grasped his twin's arms. "Tell her the truth, Elladan. 'Tis for her to decide _her_ fate. You cannot choose it for her."

Elladan let out the breath he had not realized he'd been holding.

Glossary:  
firith – Sindarin for late autumn  
bereth – spouse  
melethril – female lover  
unseemly – improper (_archaic_)  
muindor – brother  
gwaniuar – older twin

_To be continued_…

**Livana:** Thanks! I'm glad you particularly enjoy this particular part of the series. As for the number of reviews, perhaps it has to do with the genre and rating of G&I. Nontheless, I still count myself fortunate that I _do_ get reviews and that all have been positive so far.  
**Author Unknown:** Thank you as always for your continued encouragement and kind words.  
**tania and justAFan:** Thanks so much. It's lovely to know that you enjoy the plot twist in this part of the series.  
**Michelle:** Thank you. I'm very glad you're enjoying the series. Though I'm not quite sure whether I should be amazed that I've managed to mirror something that has happened in your life or apologize for reminding you of what must have been an unpleasant experience!


	56. The Choices We Must Make 7

_**The Choices We Must Make**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII  
It was little more than the second hour after the break of dawn and, already, Elrohir was dressed for the journey home. His things had been removed by the brethren's retainers and all that was left for him to do was lace his leather bracers, gird his sword and draw on his cloak. When he came out of his chamber, he found Elladan waiting patiently for him in the open corridor outside.

"Ready?" the older twin asked. His brother nodded. They began to walk down the hallway.

"Shouldn't we wait for Legolas?" Elrohir asked.

"We can meet him in the clearing," Elladan said. "There is something I wish to ask you regarding him."

Elrohir glanced at him warily then shrugged. They descended the stairs to the ground floor of the pavilion. The light wooden steps spiraled around a towering oak of indiscernible age. Enclosed in naught but sturdy interwoven vines now shorn of its lush pre-autumn foliage, the staircase seemed rather whimsical in design.

"Ask then," Elrohir replied.

"What you said yesterday, about his discomfort regarding your intimacy," Elladan said. "It seems odd considering that 'twas he who offered it the last time you lay together. And twice at that. Why should that discompose him now?"

Elrohir was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. "True, he offered to lie with me. But 'twas to give me solace and not out of love or desire."

Elladan shook his head. "That makes no sense to me. If he feels nothing, not even lust, he could not have possibly found pleasure in all the times that you came together. And you have admitted to me that he does find pleasure. Each time without fail."

"I did not say he feels nothing," Elrohir demurred. "Indeed, 'tis because he does enjoy my touch, because he finds pleasure with me that he is disconcerted. But he sets aside all considerations when he seeks to succor me. After, when he has time to think about what he has done, 'tis then that he begins to question himself. That is what discomposes him most, Elladan. I am his friend; he believes he should not feel as he does when he couples with me." He glanced at his brother pensively. "What use is there speaking of this? He has shut his heart to the love I bear him. I am but friend and brother to him, no more."

"No more yet he lies with you and knows rapture at your touch," Elladan said. "I warrant were he to open his heart, he would grieve should he not find you there."

Elrohir smiled sadly. "Wishful thinking, _gwaniaur_"—older twin—he murmured. "Do not offer me false hope. 'Twill only hinder me in enduring this."

They were now halfway down the tree-lined path leading back to the delved palace. Before Elladan could reply, a lithe figure suddenly stepped in front of them. Startled, they came to a stop and faced an obviously irate prince.

"And were you about to depart without so much as a farewell?" Legolas asked a little acidly.

"Nay, Calenlass," Elrohir said. "We would never leave you thusly."

"I only sought a private word with Elrohir," Elladan explained. "We would have awaited you in the clearing."

When Legolas still scowled, Elrohir took him by the arm and gently pulled him along. "Since when have we taken leave of you so inconsiderately?" he softly asked. "You know we are always loath to dispense with your company."

The gentle, affectionate tone of the younger twin softened the prince almost at once. The scowl faded away to be replaced by a rueful smile as he relented.

"That was uncalled for," he agreed. "Forgive me for even thinking you capable of such a deed, _gwedyr_."—sworn brothers.

The twins smiled back at him. As they walked, speaking of random matters, he absently slipped his hand over Elrohir's and clasped it tightly. Elladan noted the unthinking gesture and glanced at the prince. Legolas seemed oblivious of the tenderness of his action. The older twin shook his head with some exasperation.

One of the keenest-eyed warriors in all Elfdom and yet so blind when it comes to his own feelings, he mused. Or mayhap he is just too stubborn to admit them. Elladan thought back to his twin's words. Stubborn? Or afraid?

They passed through the spacious terrace and sauntered along the main cavern corridor until at last they came to the great stone doors of the royal halls. The wide panels stood open and just outside Thrandruil waited with his other sons and Nimeithel.

Goodbyes to the twins were made in each Elf's fashion. Thranduil with fatherly regard, Melthoron still with some reserve (but was that a grateful gleam in his eyes when he spoke to Elladan?) and Brethildor, warm and bluff as ever.

Nimeithel's farewell to Elrohir was as affectionate as any Arwen would have given him. The look they shared might have been mistaken for something other than friendly were it not for the sure knowledge that theirs was a purely platonic relationship. The goodbye to Elladan was more awkward. She strove to look him in the eye though a blush stained her cheeks as she recalled just how well he knew her now. The kiss he pressed to her temple seemed brotherly enough to others but to the Elven princess, it was almost heartbreaking. She wondered if anything would come of what they had shared. Or if she was doomed to languish for love of someone who did not seem to return it.

The brethren moved to their steeds with Legolas. At the last moment, Elladan glanced at his brother. Elrohir was seen to nod in a seemingly encouraging manner.

The older twin turned on his heel and, to everyone's surprise, strode back to the royal family. A moment later, unmindful of her father or brothers, he swept a stunned Nimeithel into his arms and held her close to his heart. The princess instinctively slipped her arms around him, breathing somewhat unevenly against his shoulder.

"I could not leave without telling you the truth," he murmured that she alone would hear. "If I avoided you all those weeks 'twas because you evoked in me a wanting I have not known in all my years and I did not wish to despoil you."

"I-I suspected as much after – after you told me you desired me," Nimeithel whispered.

"But I do not merely desire you," he softly declared. "I love you, my princess. I did not take you out of lust but out of my heart's yearning."

She stared up at him in shocked disbelief. But on the heels of it followed swiftly mounting joy.

"I thought – when you did not—" She faltered, tears stinging at her eyes.

"I told you of our choice," he said. "I did not wish to hold you to any promises to me. And I still will not." When she would have protested, he forestalled her. "I would not have you bound to one who may not be at your side for the eternity of your life. Until I know my path, this is all I can offer. But this I would ask. Will you wait for me, Nimeithel?"

Nimeithel looked keenly into his stormy eyes. There was naught but love and devotion in their depths. "I will wait," she said with a smile.

Elladan raised a hand to tenderly stroke her cheek. He bit his lip, of a sudden looking uncertain.

"We will be parted more oft than not," he said. "I would not begrudge you... companionship. If you should seek it. The Valar know I am in no position to demand anything from you."

There was the faintest hint of distress in his voice though he kept it calm and steady. Nimeithel had to chuckle affectionately.

"And will you seek other company when we are apart?" she asked, her eyes alight with love.

"Nay, you know I will not," he said. "I belong to you alone. No longer will I share myself with others."

"Then why do you think I would?" she gently chided. "You are my first _melethron_ my last, my only one. Did I not say so in the gardens the other day? There is no other, Elladan."

At her utterance, he caught her tightly to him and kissed her with as much ardor as she could possibly wish for. Right there in front of every Elf in the clearing. A part of her now thoroughly disordered mind thought that there were certain consequences to being loved by a Peredhel twin. Such as dispensing with decorum on many an occasion.

When he released her, she was as rosy as a bud in first bloom. She could not help casting apologetic glances at her staring father and brothers. Even Legolas, for all his long acquaintance with the twins and their ways, was gaping in amazement. Only a nudge from Elrohir snapped him out of his dazed stance.

Elladan grinned wickedly. "You will have to get used to this," he warned mischievously. "I cannot change at this late date."

Nimeithel had to laugh at his rakish assertion. "Nor do I wish you to," she said. "You had best send me word of your whereabouts now and then, _Eledhîren_, else I assure you I will not hesitate to give you a piece of my mind!'

"A fearsome occurrence I am sure if you are anything like Arwen!" His eyes gentled. "I will come back soonest, _meleth_."—love.

"I will be here," she smiled. "Always."

After one last lingering kiss, he walked back to Elrohir and Legolas. She watched them as they made their farewells, noted how Legolas embraced Elrohir with much warmth and even more regret that the Elf-knight was leaving. Ai, you are so mule-headed, brother, she thought, mentally shaking her head.

The brethren mounted their steeds and turned them towards the hidden path. Legolas came over to stand by his father and sister. Thranduil, after a moment placed a hand on Nimeithel's shoulder, drawing her attention for an instant from the older twin.

"You do know what to expect?" he murmured. "He is a Peredhel after all. His fate may not be as yours."

Nimeithel glanced hesitantly at Melthoron, wondering what her eldest brother would make of the situation. But the crown prince merely looked at her curiously indicating that his previous encounter with Elladan had simply provided enlightenment. A catalyst in his life so to speak.

She nodded. "I am very aware of the consequences of my choice, _Ada_"—Papa—she replied, her eyes going back to Elladan's figure.

"And you are willing to take this chance?" Legolas inquired somewhat incredulously. "What of heartbreak, _muinthel_?"—sister?

"What of it?" she replied. "'Tis a risk we take each time we love. I would not forego the chance of happiness as I have found with him for the lonesome safety of a craven heart." She said this pointedly to Legolas eliciting a confused frown from her brother. "Eternity is a terribly long time for one's heart to remain untouched, unknowing and unoffered to another."

The brethren had reached the mouth of the tunnel. Before they entered, they turned to wave to the royal family. Elladan's eyes met Nimeithel's across the clearing and the emotions they shared were as tangible as the crisp breeze that swept across the open space. And then the Imladrin party was gone, swallowed up by the shadows of the path.

Thranduil placed his arm around his daughter's shoulders. The Elvenking's eyes glistened with the sweet memory of his own heart given. "Well said, daughter," he gently smiled. "I would say you have chosen well."

With a grateful smile, she leaned against her father and let him lead her back to the delved halls, Melthoron and Brethildor behind them. For a while, Legolas lingered outside, astonished by his sister's unlooked for remonstration. And then, with a bemused shake of his fair head, he followed the others inside.

Glossary:  
melethron – male lover  
Eledhîren – my Elvenlord  
Peredhel – Half-elf/Half-elven

The End

**Part 14:** Crucible of Love – Legolas and Elrohir's peerless friendship is severely tested by the most bitter of misunderstandings and a grievous betrayal of trust. Rating: M


	57. Crucible of Love 1

**Summary:** Legolas and Elrohir's peerless friendship is severely tested by the most bitter of misunderstandings and a grievous betrayal of trust.

**Rating:** M for adult themes and sexual content. This story also contains a non-consensual situation. Let it not be said that I didn't give fair warning.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** A crucible is a pot used by smiths to melt and refine precious metals such as gold and silver. In modern parlance, it refers to an extremely difficult test or trial that often further improves, purifies or even perfects what or whoever was tested.

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _yavië_ T.A. 2933  
"_Arathorn!_"

The golden-haired Elf cried out the name in warning; lunged forward in a desperate effort to push the Man out of the way. Too late. With a gasping groan, the Man toppled over, an Orc-arrow protruding from his eye.

Even as he caught the fallen Man the Elf staggered backwards, pierced by two arrows in his side and leg. But he did not let his wounds deter him and he half-carried, half-dragged the man's body away from the violence around him.

There were so many Orcs. The Rangers were hard pressed to beat them off. Though they eventually had the victory, it had cost them dearly. Their Chieftain was dying. They gathered around him in his last moments, forgetting that the Elf who had sheltered him was injured.

One grey-eyed Ranger, however, suddenly realized that the Elf was swaying wearily. Only then did he see the broken shaft sticking out of the other's side and the wound in his thigh. Sweet Eru, why did no one notice?

He was reaching out to his friend when the Elf toppled over unconscious, his face stricken with a deathly pallor. Elrohir threw back his hood in fear and horror and cradled Legolas in his arms.

Elbereth! The younger twin son of Elrond of Rivendell sat up in his bed with a jolt. That nightmare again, he thought. Would it never go away?

He sighed. Several months had passed since Arathorn, latest Chieftain of the Dúnedain of the North, had died while riding against the Orcs, leaving behind his widow and child. Yet Elrohir still dreamt of that event and it always left him shaken. So much loss, so much anguish, he thought as always.

An hour later, he emerged from his chamber to join his father and brother in the hall for breakfast. But only Elladan was there to greet him good morning. He had no idea where their father was. It did not take long, however, for Lindir to approach them with the message that Lord Elrond wished to see them in his study. Finishing their meal, the twins complied.

They had changed much since the loss of their mother, Lady Celebrían. Her passing West had stripped them of most of the youthful jubilance that had once been the despair of their father. Now, they spent many a day riding out with the Dúnedain, intent on avenging the wrong done their mother, a wrong that had in turn deprived her husband and children of her loving presence. Though Elrond approved of their now constant sobriety, he had to admit that, sometimes, he missed the days when they had made Rivendell the liveliest place this side of the Anduin.

The twins entered their father's study and halted with a start on the threshold. Flanked by Rivendell's chief counsellors, the steward, Erestor, and Glorfindel, captain of the Imladrin forces, their father was speaking with a woman who sat by the window, a sleeping child of two years of age in her arms. She was dark-haired with grave grey eyes. And though she was young of countenance, she seemed old in spirit. Yet she was no Elf; she was human.

"Lady Gilraen!" Elladan gasped.

He hurried forward followed by Elrohir. The twins paid their respects to Arathorn's widow then glanced down at the child in puzzlement.

"'Tis Arathorn's son, Aragorn," Erestor explained.

"This is Aragorn?" Elrohir said. "Last we saw him he was but a babe. He has grown so quickly."

Gilraen smiled proudly. "Yes, he has. He will be a great Chieftain like his father and grandfather before him."

"Aragorn is coming to live with us," Elrond announced. "The Enemy seeks him and we are no longer certain that the Dúnedain can shield him." He paused. "I have taken it upon myself to raise him. He will not know of his heritage until we deem it wise to reveal it to him."

His sons stared at him in surprise.

"You have fostered the Chieftains' sons since Arahael but seldom at such an early age and never was their heritage hidden from them," Elladan said hesitantly. "Is it right to conceal this from Aragorn?"

Glorfindel sighed. "We do not know the answer to that. We only know that his survival will depend on utmost secrecy."

At that moment, the child awakened. He looked at the twins, eyes widening at the likeness between them. Elrohir curiously bent down low to study his face. Aragorn reached out a chubby hand and grasped a fistful of the Elf's raven hair. To Elrohir's consternation he began to suck on the dark strands much to others' amusement.

Gilraen laughed softly at the Elvenlord's expression. "He must like you," she said. "He is usually shy and would never be so bold."

Aragorn let go of the Elf's tresses and reached out his arms to Elrohir. For the space of one heartbeat, Elrohir hesitated. And then he took the child into his arms. A look of gentleness replaced the earlier confusion. "Welcome to Imladris, Aragorn," he quietly said.

Elrond smiled, glad that his son had thawed if only for the moment. "It would be best if we do not use his name," he stated. "It would put him in grave danger."

"Then what shall we call him?" Elladan asked.

"If Gilraen will agree, I think we shall call him Estel."

"Hope," Gilraen murmured. "Yes, 'tis fitting. My little Estel."

oOoOoOo

_lairë_ T.A. 2939  
Elrohir wondered at himself. He had closed himself off for the past five years to all emotions that were in any way associated with love. He had become cool and aloof even with his own family. And his dalliances had been reduced to being mere means of pure physical release much to the resentment of many an Elf lady from Rivendell to Lothlórien. Frustrated admirers had come to dub him 'The Ice Prince.' Even Arwen, sojourning these past many years in the Golden Wood with their grandparents, had oft written him, decrying the increasing remoteness in his manner of writing when he corresponded with her at all. It had not affected him in the least.

Yet here he was caring for a human child and finding that he enjoyed it. In the years since Gilraen had brought her son to Rivendell, Elrohir had found himself unable to close himself off to Estel as he had done to others. I am not supposed to be doing this, he would scold himself. I do not wish to feel anything. But all Estel had to do was cry out his name and reach out his arms and he was lost. What was it about children that one could not resist them?

Sometimes he worried about his attachment to the child. He is mortal, he would remind himself. Someday he would age and pass away beyond the circles of the world. There would be no reuniting in Arda until the end of time. It would be a devastating loss for as sure as the sun rose each morning, Elrohir knew that he had come to love his foster brother.

But perhaps I can bear this, he would reason out. I have managed to deal with my fears for father and Elladan. Surely, I can cope with this. He refused to consider the illogic of this when he had failed so miserably in dealing with another relationship the result of which had blighted his life six years ago.

oOoOoOo

"I wonder what he sees in you," Elladan smirked as Estel clung to Elrohir, refusing to go with Almáriel who was supposed to take care of him in his mother's absence.

They were in Elrohir's bedchamber. He had watched over Estel until Arwen's former nurse was free to take over. But when he tried to hand the boy over to the Elf-woman, Estel had balked and bawled and held on tenaciously to Elrohir's tunic instead. Compared to other children of eight summers, Estel seemed so much younger and ill prepared for the vicissitudes of life he would one day face.

Slow in their early growth were the Dúnedain, more akin to the Firstborn in this matter than to the lesser races of Men. But when they came to full maturity, they were also the stronger, the wiser and the more enduring than any of their kindred who came to their complete growth more swiftly but also waned and fell into dotage whilst the Men of the West still lingered in their prime.

"I wish I knew," Elrohir muttered. "That is all right, Almáriel. I will take care of putting him to sleep."

After the nurse departed, he sat on his bed and looked at the little boy. Estel stared back at him and said with a grin, "I win!"

Elrohir sighed. "I see I shall be stuck with you for the rest of the afternoon," he commented.

Elladan smiled. It was good to see his twin showing some warmth once more even if it was just with Estel. Too long had Elrohir shut himself off from feeling anything for anyone. It was pleasant to see him rediscovering the joy of caring for others.

The thought reminded him of something else. He glanced at his brother; saw the small smile on his face as he strove to entice the child into taking his nap. Well, this is as good a time as any to tell him, he thought. And at least he will not take my head off as he might if the message came from someone else. There was no predicting how Elrohir would respond to the news Elladan bore.

"I thought you should know," he said. "We are expecting visitors."

"Oh?" Elrohir replied absently. "Who?"

"Elves of Mirkwood."

He watched as Elrohir went very still. His face paled then gently stained with color. The younger twin turned his head and stared at him.

"Why?" he asked tersely.

"_Ada_ has asked King Thranduil for his counsel regarding Estel. I imagine they carry his answer with them." Elladan paused. "And it has been a while since our friend last graced Imladris with his presence. _Ada_ invited him to stay for the summer."

Elrohir could not speak at first. Finally he drew a deep breath and said, "When do they arrive?"

"This afternoon at the latest."

Shock registered on Elrohir's face. "This afternoon?" he repeated. "And no one thought to tell me?"

Elladan shrugged. "'Tis not easy to tell you anything regarding Mirkwood." He looked pointedly at his brother. "Not since your quarrel with Legolas."

Elrohir swallowed hard. Legolas. He had tried so hard not to think of his friend. In the years since their last parting no one had dared speak his name around him. And now, he was coming. It would no longer be his name alone that Elrohir would have to contend with but Legolas himself.

Elladan studied him for a while. "I thought you should know," he said. His brother simply looked at him somewhat dazedly then nodded his acknowledgement. Elladan shrugged and departed.

Elrohir cradled Estel against his shoulder. The child tucked his head into the crook of his neck. He was sleepy now and would soon drift away into dreamland. Elrohir stroked his curling dark hair absently, his thoughts on the visitors who were about to arrive. He was particularly concerned with one visitor.

He closed his eyes. He could still remember the last time he had seen him. It had not been pleasant. And it had been Elrohir who had made it so.

oOoOoOo

Legolas walked to Elrohir's room, wondering as he did why the younger twin had been reticent with him of late. He had ceased to visit him in the healing rooms once Lord Elrond declared him out of danger and had not sought him out while he recovered in the comfort of his bedchamber. This aloofness troubled him and he thought to question his friend about it. He also desired to inform him that he would accompany him and Elladan when next they went a-hunting. Arathorn's death hung heavily over everyone in Rivendell; the twins would not let it go unavenged.

Elladan was also within and welcomed him warmly. Elrohir's demeanor, however, was anything but. He cast a cool gaze upon the prince as the latter spoke of joining them in errantry.

"Perhaps 'tis time you returned to Mirkwood," Elrohir bluntly suggested.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, startled. "Why?" he asked. "I am recovered now and can ride with you tomorrow."

Elrohir refused to look at his brother who had started in surprise at his words. "Nay, there is no need for you to come with us."

Legolas frowned. "But I wish to assist you in hunting down those orcs. Why are you turning my help away?"

"It is not needed. You are not needed."

"Elrohir!"

He ignored Elladan's sharp exclamation. "'Tis for us to avenge Arathorn's death, Legolas, not you," he said cuttingly. "We do not need you meddling in our affairs."

The dark blue eyes widened in shock then narrowed in bewilderment. "Meddling?" Legolas repeated. "When have I ever meddled in your affairs save when you asked me to? If this is a jest I fail to see the humor in it, Elrohir."

"'Tis no jest and I did not intend to humor you either," Elrohir curtly replied.

"_Muindor_, why do you speak so harshly?" Elladan cut in. "What has Legolas done to offend you?"

"Aye, what have I done?" Legolas inquired, his voice now edged with anger.

"Nothing save to remain here when you would be of better service in your father's halls. I oft wonder why you linger here when your duty lies in Mirkwood." Seeing the darkening expression on Legolas' face, he added sarcastically, "Unless of course 'tis your way of escaping the responsibilities of a prince of the Woodland Realm."

It was a terrible thing to say. Legolas whitened upon hearing his words. His eyes turned glacial with barely contained rage. "You should watch your tongue, _Elrondion_"—son of Elrond—he said coldly. "If not for the respect I hold for your father I should slit your throat now and be glad of it!"

"You could try," Elrohir taunted. "But 'tis questionable if you can succeed."

"Enough!" Elladan cried, seeing the murderous flicker in the prince's eyes. He swiftly interposed himself between the two, certain they would come to blows otherwise. "Elrohir, have you gone mad?" he demanded.

"Nay, I only spoke the truth."

"Stop it, you fool!" Elladan hissed. He turned to Legolas, hoping to still placate the golden-haired archer. "Pay no heed to him, _gwador_"— sworn brother—he said. "His wishes are not mine or our father's. You are still welcome here and always will be."

Legolas continued to stare at Elrohir. "Nay, I will not remain where there is one who sees me with such contempt," he responded in a hard voice. "I will not demean myself so. I shall leave tonight."

He turned to exit the room. Elladan followed and caught up with him at the door. They spoke in low voices but Elrohir still heard part of their conversation.

"I do not know what has come over him," Elladan said. "He has been cold to us these past many weeks."

"He was not merely cold to me," Legolas retorted. "His words were offensive beyond bearing."

"I agree. They were insupportable. But would you abandon _Adar_ and me because of him?"

Legolas fell silent for several seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was no longer hard. It had become soft and gentle and heartbreakingly sad. "I would not abandon you. But I cannot stay knowing that he eyes me with such scorn. I have never known how it is to be hated by one I hold so dear. I do not wish to learn it now. I must go."

Elladan could only sigh and nod his acquiescence. He remained at the door staring at his friend's retreating form. When he turned back to Elrohir, his countenance hardened. "What are you about, brother?" he demanded angrily. "What did you hope to gain?"

Elrohir shrugged. "I have already gained it. He is leaving."

Elladan stared at him. "I do not understand you. Why have you turned on him? Elrohir, 'twas Legolas you drove away! How could you treat him so basely after professing love for him?" When Elrohir remained unresponsive, he caustically asked: "Have you already forgotten how he succored you though it went against his very grain?"

He had the bitter satisfaction of seeing his brother flush at the reminder. But Elrohir refused to speak and turned away instead. Frustrated, Elladan strode out of the room.

Only then did Elrohir let his guard down. He was more shaken than he cared to admit. Elladan's last words had recalled memories he'd hoped to bury so deeply he would not be able to retrieve them. But now that they had emerged he could not push them away. Images, feelings, words... he could no more suppress them than he could stop breathing.

"_We have been friends for years beyond count. I do not wish to lose you!_"

"_You lost me the day I learned to desire you._"

Shining hair... pale gold by day, mithril by night.

"_You are the closest thing to perfection that I have ever known._"

Eyes like pools of darkest sapphire, by turns open or guarded.

"_I suddenly wondered what it would be like to be intimate with you, to know you as no other man has or ever will_."

"_I will give you what you desire_."

Finely shaped lips, wondrously soft and pliant.

"_Let me warm you_."

Smooth pale skin, slender muscular limbs.

"_I have sated my desire but I am not sure it was worth the price you paid_."

"_You are wrong. It was worth the price_."

Heated nights, languorous days, secrets in the twilight.

"_If the madness has not passed, I will be here for you for as long as you need me_."

Golden smiles, silvery laughter.

"_I never want to lose you be you lover, friend or brother_."

Giving, yielding. Ever caring.

"_I promised I would be there for you for as long as you need me. You know I never break my promises_."

"_Then I am truly blessed_."

oOoOoOo

Elrohir drew in his breath with a shudder. He steeled himself against remembering more. He should not have let himself slip into the past. Could not allow his memories to overcome his resolve. Would not permit himself to feel anything like that again.

With a start, he realized that Estel was asleep. Gently, he lowered the child to the bed. But as he drew away, Estel cried out and clutched at his tunic. Sighing, Elrohir eased himself into the bed beside his charge.

Glossary:  
yavië – Quenya for autumn  
lairë - Quenya for summer  
Ada – Papa  
muindor – brother

_To be continued_…

**anon:** Thank you. G&I is complete and archived on other sites in its entirety. In fact, the series or parts of it have been nominated for and/or won in various categories at the MEFA, MPA and Mithril Awards. But due to its genre and relatively explicit sexual content, I hesitated to post it on this site. I hope I manage to tone down said scenes enough to conform to FFnet's restrictions without losing too much of the tension or intensity these scenes require.


	58. Crucible of Love 2

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
Legolas stared out the window of Lord Elrond's study, taking in the vista of pine and heather topped slopes, the deceptively lacy waterfall in the far distance and the delicately wrought porches and balconies of the Last Homely House. Six years had passed since he had last walked its halls, climbed the hillsides and sat by its sparkling streams. Six years yet it felt like six hundred.

_Valar, I have missed this place. Ever like a second home has it been to me_.

"I am glad that you feel that way about Imladris."

Legolas grinned and turned to face Elrond. "Are my thoughts that transparent, my lord?" he asked.

"Nay, only so heartfelt one could not fail to hear them," Elrond smiled. "Imladris has sorely missed your presence, too."

Legolas was warmed. The thought that his absence had been precipitated by a less than cordial conversation with one of Elrond's sons was forgotten for the moment.

"Thank you, my lord. And I have been looking forward to seeing the child, Estel. Elladan had written that he is strong and high-spirited."

Elrond glanced at his older son musingly. "Yes, much like my own sons when they were that age. For that matter, much like them until only recently. I sometimes wonder what I have let myself in for by fostering him. If he is anything like his brothers, I shudder to think of what will happen to Imladris."

"_Ada!_" Papa!

Legolas laughed at Elladan's expression. "'Tis very much what my father said when he received your letter."

"What did Thranduil say?"

"He said that it seemed you did not deem yourself sufficiently tormented since you have taken into your home yet another male child who may very well follow in his brothers' footsteps. He also said that he would triple his guards the day Estel is old enough to come with the twins on their visits to Mirkwood."

Elrond chuckled. "I am pleased they are still welcome in your realm," he said.

Legolas' smile faded somewhat. "They have ever been welcome," he murmured. "But if one finds a place not to his liking, no amount of warmth or joy will suffice to give him reason to accept it."

Elladan looked away, discomfort limning his features. Elrond silently chided himself. He should have been more careful with his words given the circumstances.

"May I see the child?" Legolas suddenly asked to dispel the sudden awkwardness.

"But of course," Elrond replied before realizing where his acquiescence would lead. He felt some misgiving but he had already agreed and perhaps it would be best to get the matter out of the way. After all, there would be no avoiding it since Legolas would be staying until autumn. "_Gwaniaur_, will you be so kind?"

The older twin led the way to the sleeping chambers. To Legolas' surprise he stopped before a familiar door.

"Elladan, are you sure you have the right room?" he asked somewhat doubtfully.

The twin smiled. "Estel insists on staying with him," he replied by way of explanation. "'Tis a mystery to us why the child likes him so much."

He opened the door and allowed Legolas to peek in. The prince softly chuckled at the sight that greeted him.

Elrohir lay on his side in his bed, fast asleep. In the curve of his body was a slumbering child, its chubby hands curled around the protective arm that cradled it.

"Do they always sleep thusly?" Legolas asked in a hushed voice.

"Only when Lady Gilraen is away," Elladan answered. At Legolas' questioning look, he added: "She has gone for a fortnight to visit with her folk."

Legolas stared at the child. Silently, he approached the bed. Bending until he was at level with the child's face, he studied its features curiously. You could pass for an Elf, little one, he thought.

Just then Estel's eyes flickered open. For a moment, he looked as if he would cry. But then he saw Legolas before him and his whimper was stilled. They looked at each other, one with curiosity, the other with fascination.

"Hello, Estel," Legolas softly said. Estel's eyes widened and then the child smiled shyly. Legolas got down on one knee. Elladan quietly closed the door and left.

Legolas glanced at the sleeping twin. They had parted in anger and bitterness; his last memory of the warrior was his hard, unyielding countenance. But in repose, Elrohir looked almost as sweet and innocent as the child he held. And even more comely than Legolas remembered. He felt that familiar twinge within as he regarded the Elf-lord. It never failed to make itself known whenever he allowed himself to consider Elrohir's beauty and allure. He forced the feeling aside. There was no place for it here when the rift between them yawned wide and deep and seemed so insurmountable.

I cannot believe we allowed our quarrel to drive us apart for so long, he thought sadly.

His eyes returned to the wide-eyed boy. Legolas put out a finger and stroked the child's smooth cheek. Estel giggled. Legolas grinned as his finger was grasped in a surprisingly strong hand and pulled into a warm, toothy mouth. The prince could not suppress a yelp, however, when tiny but sharp teeth bit down on his finger.

Elrohir stirred, startled by the sound. He opened his eyes and turned his head. A pair of dark blue eyes met his. He blinked. Then he looked down at the child beside him and realized that Estel was holding on to someone's finger. He came sharply awake as he realized who that someone was.

"Legolas?" he gasped.

"Well met, Elrohir," Legolas answered with a hint of irony. "Now that you're awake mayhap you can persuade your little brother to let go of my finger?"

"Estel!" Elrohir sat up and set to work prying the prince's finger from the child's grasp. His cheeks had reddened considerably much to Legolas' amusement. "Have you been waiting here long?" he mumbled.

"Not too long. I would have gone had Estel not decided to keep me captive."

"Oh." Elrohir found it difficult to look at his friend. When Estel yawned and lay down on the bed again, he found refuge in tucking him in. "Well, he is an inquisitive boy. I imagine he will accomplish great things when he grows to manhood."

"He need not wait that long to do so. He has already accomplished one thing."

Elrohir looked at Legolas in surprise. "What is that?"

"He has softened your heart enough for you to be willing to talk to me again."

There was no recrimination in the prince's voice. He merely stated a fact. Nonetheless, Elrohir flushed. It called to mind the reason why they had not communicated with each other in all these years.

If Legolas had been hoping for some response, he was disappointed. With an inward sigh, he rose to his feet. "I am glad to see you are well, _mellon nîn_"—my friend—he said. He bent and ruffled Estel's dark hair. And then he left the room.

Elrohir let his breath out after he left. I did not even welcome him, he thought guiltily.

Legolas had been hurt by his lukewarm demeanor. There had been no mistaking the emotion in the prince's eyes. Elrohir stiffened. _There is nothing new about that. That hurt was there years ago_. His resolve wavered somewhat. _And I put it there_.

oOoOoOo

For Legolas, the days that followed were fraught with a curious mix of tension and contentment. Strange as it may have seemed, despite the gap that marred his relationship with Elrohir, the prince still found a modicum of joy in being close to his friend once more. He may have departed Rivendell in anger and pain over the Elf-knight's hurtful words but once home in Mirkwood, he'd felt the loss of Elrohir's affections acutely. Even the scant comfort of missives had been absent these six years and that had wounded Legolas deeply.

He'd also been alarmed by Elladan's letters pertaining to the younger twin's increasingly aloof manner. He'd wondered about it, racked his brain trying to discern what might have affected Elrohir so grievously. And he began to hope that it might have had something to do with his friend's hostility towards him. For if Elrohir's harshness had been induced by something other than a sudden reversal in his opinion of the Mirkwood prince, then there was still a chance their friendship could be saved. It was a chance Legolas was not about to forego. The reason why he had accepted Lord Elrond's invitation with all the eagerness of a hawk about to swoop down on its prey.

Estel had no small role in bringing them together frequently enough to please Legolas. A friendly if shy soul, Estel had taken a liking to him as well, discerning with a child's innocent sagacity that his adored Elf-knight harbored a deep regard for the Sindarin prince whatever his overt actions may imply. And so the little Dúnadan insisted that Legolas join him and Elrohir in just about every activity they indulged in.

Thus, the two found themselves almost always flanking Estel whether at meals or watching Glorfindel's warriors train or teaching the boy how to swim or ride or wield a bow. Their eyes seldom met for long on these occasions; they spoke even less. Admittedly, this was mainly due to Elrohir's reluctance to spend more time than was absolutely necessary in the company of the prince. Legolas, on the other hand, had no compunctions about trying to catch his friend's attention as much as possible. He refused to let Elrohir's evasiveness dishearten him and stepped up his campaign to restore their closeness even more fervently.

This state of affairs continued for the better part of the prince's first weeks back in Rivendell. In Legolas' opinion, it was not much of an improvement over their erstwhile lack of any contact at all but it was infinitely preferable to complete estrangement. If he could but reawaken their former rapport even bit by bit, he was certain he could bridge the chasm that had opened between them and regain the affections of his beloved friend. On this hope alone, he kept the door to reconciliation wide open and steadfastly ignored the younger twin's attempted rebuffs.

"I cannot believe your patience, _gwador_"—sworn brother—Elladan remarked one evening as they sat in the Hall of Fire listening to the soothing strains of Lindir's lute. "Others would have long given up but you persist no matter how much he resists your overtures."

"Others have not known what I am loath to lose," Legolas said, turning his rapt gaze on Elrohir.

The younger twin was seated on the thick furs before the great hearth, Estel cradled in his arms. He was gently rocking the sleepy child, coaxing him into the slumber required by his extreme youth. The prince smiled fondly at the sight, thinking how sweet and affectionate the Elf-knight could be when he cared for someone. He sighed. He'd known the twin's tender attention and now that it was withdrawn, missed it keenly.

As he gazed at Elrohir, the latter raised his head as if sensing his scrutiny though unaware that it was he who regarded him so intensely. Their eyes met across the room. For a moment, Elrohir gazed back at him unguardedly, slow to veil his feelings in his surprise at finding Legolas watching him intently. And then he recollected himself and, flushing, quickly lowered his head once more. He studiously avoided looking in Legolas' direction after that. But the prince had seen.

He looked at Elladan, elated by what he had gleaned in that unexpected exchange. The older twin, too, had observed his brother's demeanor and he faintly smiled at Legolas' obvious pleasure.

"Aye, 'tis clear that he still lo – cares for you," Elladan said, quickly catching himself. "But why he pretends otherwise is beyond me."

"Whatever his reason, I am happy to know that I have not truly lost him," Legolas beamed happily. "I had so dreaded that possibility these many years, Elladan. Especially since I had no way of finding out what I could have done to bring our quarrel about."

Elladan studied him thoughtfully. So close and yet so far, he mused in some frustration. But all he said was: "It was none of your doing, _ernilen_. It was his purpose to drive you away. Why, I cannot fathom and that is something that troubles me as well. I have always been able to read him enough to at least guess at what he may be thinking or feeling. But now, he hides them so skillfully even from me."

"And does that pain you?" Legolas quietly asked.

Elladan shook his head. "It would if I thought myself forsaken by my own brother," he admitted. "But our... connection still flows between us. 'Tis only that he does not allow more than the vaguest impressions to escape his vigilance." He stared with some exasperation at his reclusive twin. "He knows I will discover what he strives to conceal should he let his guard down even for a moment. Why he should fear that..." The warrior shook his head in frustration. "Ai, he can be as stubborn as a mule when he chooses to be!"

"Then we are evenly matched," Legolas chuckled. "Nimeithel oft calls me mule-headed whenever we disagree about something. Naturally, being female, she thinks she has the prerogative to claim she is right nearly all of the time!"

He grinned, seeing how Elladan had turned a faint shade of red at the mention of his sister's name. "I warrant you are the only _ellon_ she would own her better in any debate," he added teasingly. The older twin's blush deepened. "My, but you are an interesting color, Elladan. Are you unwell? Should I alert Lord Elrond?"

Elladan mock-scowled at him. "I can hardly wait to see you floundering in the throes of romance, _Thranduilion_"—son of Thranduil—he growled.

Legolas chuckled. "Then you will wait in vain," he smugly retorted. "Unlike some Elves I know, I am not so imprudent as to foolishly lose my heart to anyone."

At once the good humor on Elladan's countenance vanished and he grimaced at the reminder of his brother's travails. Legolas noticed the change at once. He frowned.

"What is it?" he queried. "Did I say anything to offend you?"

Elladan glanced at him then shook his head. Useless to rail at the prince for something he was so utterly oblivious of. And unkind considering how hard Legolas was trying to repair the rift between himself and Elrohir. The least Elladan could do was throw his support behind his friend. After all, he thought, a restoration of their friendship now could pave the way to something more profound in the future. There could be no harm in it and much good might yet come of it.

"Elrohir asked me not to tell you but I see no reason why I should keep this from you," he said to the prince. "We received word from Estel's kin that a company of Rangers will come to Imladris within the week. They seek a band of Orcs that pillaged several settlements east of Imladris just this spring then fled north towards the Ered Mithrin. The Rangers have evidence that they have issued forth again this summer and desire to waylay them ere they can do more harm. Elrohir and I explored that area but last season. We will go with them and act as their guides."

Legolas sat up straighter at the implicit invitation. "Then I will join you," he said. He glanced at Elrohir. "Whether he wills it or not."

Elladan nodded, satisfied. "Mayhap you shall find the chance to thresh things out between you," he suggested. "He is always more receptive during such journeying. The perils we face tend to unlock his reticence."

Legolas smiled gratefully at the older twin.

His attention was drawn once more to Elrohir when the warrior rose, a slumbering Estel in his arms. He watched the twin slowly make his way to the doors of the hall. As Elrohir waited for an Elf to open them for him, he inadvertently looked in Legolas' direction.

Again, the archer pointedly caught his gaze and almost forcibly held it. Elrohir could not prevent the faint color that washed over his cheeks. He averted his eyes and hastened out of the chamber.

Legolas smiled to himself. Elladan was right. The Elf-knight still held his tender regard for him however stubbornly concealed. If fortune was with him, if the Valar willed it, he would know its inimitable depth and warmth once again and that was something worth striving for.

Glossary:  
gwaniuar – older twin  
ernilen – my prince  
ellon – male Elf

_To be continued_…


	59. Crucible of Love 3

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
They rode side by side, yet spoke no words to each other. Elladan had ensured that he and Legolas flanked the younger twin for much of the journey, which served to discomfit Elrohir almost constantly. He was clearly affected by the prince's proximity to him and did his utmost to keep his attention anywhere but on the figure beside him.

That avoidance should have hurt Legolas but oddly enough it did not. The Elf-prince actually found a sense of comfort and relief in Elrohir's actions. For why else would the warrior behave so unless it was because he still held his regard for his Mirkwood friend and was fighting it for whatever reason had compelled him to start their estrangement in the first place.

Theirs had not been the warmest of meetings in the courtyard of the Last Homely House. Elrohir had been clearly taken aback when Legolas joined the small host of Rangers and their Elven kin in the early hours of three days past. A questioning look at an unrepentant Elladan told the tale.

"Can I not trust even you, brother?" Elrohir said reproachfully as they swung lithely onto their mounts.

Elladan coolly replied: "Oh, you can trust me, _gwanneth_. You can trust me to do right by you."

Elrohir snorted, trained a wary eye on Legolas then urged his steed forward, away from his twin and the prince. Elladan scowled at the flicker of pain that crossed Legolas' face. It was not a promising start.

That first day, the brethren found themselves at odds with each other. A thing so rare that even the seasoned Rangers, so used to impossibilities becoming possible, would surreptitiously observe them, wondering at their discord.

But their twinship did not allow such lengthy separations of their sibling spirits even if they chose to keep secrets from each other. By day's end, they were on speaking terms once more though Elrohir remained cautious and almost maddeningly reserved. And he kept his distance from the archer whenever possible much to Legolas' frustration and growing impatience. Hence, Elladan's insistence that they ride three abreast with Elrohir in the middle.

Legolas watched him now as he hung back slightly to speak with young Halbarad who rode just behind them. Estel's kinsman, he was a gangly youth barely a year removed from his majority. It was his first long sojourn with his fellows and as such he was still equal parts excited by and apprehensive of what lay before them. Elrohir, evidently missing his exuberant charge, had taken said charge's cousin under his wing, providing a windfall of knowledge and experience for the raw, almost painfully untried lad.

Indeed, it could be said that the brethren had once upon a time been mentors to fully half of the Dúnedain present, so admired and sought after were their formidable skills and sage counsel. It was most natural for one or the other twin to instruct any young addition to the Rangers' numbers. As Elrohir was doing now for Halbarad.

It was cause for both admiration and annoyance to the Mirkwood prince.

He had to esteem Elrohir's gentle yet strict handling of Halbarad for it guaranteed the boy's future confidence in his abilities. But he also could not help begrudging the attention the Elf-knight paid to the youth, attention he dearly desired for himself. Too long had he gone without the younger twin's peerless regard. He feared that if he did not have his say soon, he would release his opinions in a manner that was sure to provoke only more unpleasantness between them.

He was saved from indulging in such ill-conceived methods by the timely and altogether violent encounter with the very Orcs they sought.

The twins had indeed known the territory well. They chose the quickest paths to the mountains, leading the troop through a rather desolate landscape devoid of lush forests and velvet meadows. A lonely place far from all friendly realms, Legolas thought. Yet the brethren had dared to venture this far in their errantry. It spoke of their courage and hardiness and only roused the archer's admiration further.

In less time than might be expected, he saw the first craggy peaks of the Withered Heath jutting out in the distant horizon. He grimaced at the thought of travelling to so isolated an area. Only Dwarves could possibly tolerate such a bleak domicile, he mused as his eyes made out what he surmised to be the tip of Mount Gundabad.

But as it soon turned out, there was no need to travel to the mountains. The brethren picked up the first signs of the Orcs' passage while they were still days away. With fearsome swiftness, they tracked the goblins down, their years in the wild hunting these loathsome creatures paying off with bountiful results.

The Rangers surprised the Orcs as the creatures made their hunched way down the stony plains, springing from the concealment of boulders and shrubbery when the vile band passed by. Swords flashed and arrows sang as battle was engaged.

The ensuing fray was brutal and soul-blackening, the hunters cutting down their prey without ruth, without thought, without even the barest hint of pity. And likewise the prey fighting back, ferocious in their fear, driven by their desperation, savage by dint of their scorching fury.

In the midst of the carnage, Legolas noted that Elrohir and Elladan remained by Halbarad's side, protecting the callow youth in this first bloodying. Of this he heartily approved; the boy was still a mere stripling and no match for such fell opponents. The brethren stood between him and cruel oblivion.

Yet the lure of long brotherhood in conflict eventually proved all too strong. Unbidden, an Orc blade was deftly deflected from its target, the lissome neck of the Mirkwood Elf.

Legolas spun on his heel in gratitude, had a moment to stare in surprise as Elrohir parried yet another stroke, guarding the archer's back as he had oft done of yore. Before long, the favor was returned as the prince gutted a charging Orc whose objective had been to skewer the Elvenlord on the end of its rough-hewn lance.

Legolas felt a surge of exultation, recalling times past when he and the twin had fought as one, their movements a near seamless ballet that fended off assaults with seeming ease and made of them efficient dispensers of damage and death. Their bitter parting had seemingly shattered their gallant comradeship.

Six years had he thought their deep bond of friendship at an end. Six years had he mourned its passing. Now, it was strikingly clear that his sorrow had been premature.

He could deny it, conceal it, pretend it was not so. But in this primal confrontation, with danger as their companion, Elrohir's instincts betrayed him. His heart bested his will.

The Elf-knight still cleaved to his Mirkwood brother.

oOoOoOo

The battle's end heralded the tedious task of disposing of the fallen. They would not leave the festering corpses of the Orcs to taint this land however empty and forsaken. The Dark Lord had already despoiled as much of Middle-earth as they were willing to endure. Even a barren waste was to be treasured and protected if it still lay unstained by Sauron's unholy touch.

The Rangers heaved the stinking carcasses of their foes onto a steadily growing pile. When the last of the corpses had been tossed onto the heap, Elladan set it afire with little relish and much relief. Here was one less horde to bedevil the denizens of this patch of Middle-earth. In such victories did he and his brother find their peace amidst the stench-ridden consequences of their errantry.

He watched for a while as the flames consumed the goblin remains. And then he turned to seek his brother and friend.

The sight that greeted him could hardly have lightened his spirits. Elrohir had taken a badly shaken Halbarad to one side and there shielded the lad as he emptied his belly into a straggling patch of tall grass. One of the Rangers approached with a flask of water and handed it the retching boy. Elladan watched with sympathy as Halbarad took a swig and swished the liquid around in his soured mouth before spitting it out. His color returned somewhat and he nodded his thanks to the older Man then smiled ruefully at his Elven mentor.

Elladan could not blame the lad for the upheaval in his innards. Even he could not long endure the reek of burning Orc flesh, he who should have been inured to it after centuries of inhaling it. Halbarad was fortunate to have Elrohir as his teacher in this, his first goblin-hunt.

A figure in green and brown crossed the filth-cluttered clearing, cloak billowing behind. Elladan wondered how Legolas fared.

The Elf-prince seemed little affected by what had passed, his demeanor cool and precise as ever. But the warrior knew better. The archer's blue eyes conveyed the true tale. The light of battle had been quenched and replaced by weariness not so much of the body but of the spirit. True to his elven roots, even the woodland Sinda, for all his elemental nature, could not find true pleasure in the ending of life however detestable that life might be. The prince leaned forlornly against a scarred tree then looked in Elrohir's direction.

Elrohir had set to treating the wounds of a grizzled Ranger. He was bent over the Man, his comely face a picture of concentration as he tended to the latter's injury. He seemed quite unaware of the eyes that studied him relentlessly.

The longing for the Elf-knight's solace was so glaringly apparent in the archer's gaze that Elladan thought his brother must surely feel its force. And indeed it seemed that Elrohir did sense Legolas' regard for he suddenly looked up and met the archer's gaze. A moment later, he dropped his eyes once more but Elladan saw how his hands trembled as he drew the bindings around the Man's arm. The older twin smiled grimly.

_Try as you may, you cannot set aside your heart's desire, brother_.

oOoOoOo

"He is troubled," Elladan softly remarked as he and Legolas drew on their clothing after their first refreshing bath in nearly three days.

The Rangers had set up camp in a small clearing in a wooded area several leagues south of the Ered Mithrin. Here sparse forests made their welcome appearance, as did running springs and grassy plains. The Elves, to the Men's never ending amusement, at once took the chance to wash themselves in a nearby stream, stripping not only the gore and grime of travel and battle from their bodies but also the regrets an encounter with their long-ago kin always wrought.

"By what?" Legolas queried, keeping his eyes on the Elf-knight as the latter walked back to the camp.

"I do not know," Elladan admitted. "But I could sense his distress." He looked at his friend. "And you must know 'tis your presence that caused some part of it."

The Elf-prince nodded. "That was most apparent."

"He is... struggling," Elladan said hesitantly. He turned introspective, forgetting for a moment the presence of his friend. "Fighting himself I warrant," he murmured. "Fighting what he desires."

"And what desire would this be?" Legolas inquired curiously, pondering the warrior's thoughtful expression.

"What his heart demands," Elladan answered absently. "If only he could tell—"

He broke off, suddenly aware of his rambling. He bit his lip guiltily. Elbereth, he'd nearly revealed Elrohir's secret. And to the one person who could not, should not know of it. Not yet.

"Tell?" Legolas prodded.

Elladan evaded the question gracefully. "Tell us what troubles him," he replied. "How can we help him if we know not what disturbs him?"

Legolas frowned. Somehow, he'd received the impression that Elladan had been about to say something else. But the older twin did not look like he was about to say more and he decided to let it go for the present.

"Let us approach him then," he urged instead.

Giving Elladan no chance to protest, he pulled the twin along as he determinedly made his way to Elrohir.

"Legolas, this may not be the right time to—"

The prince cut him off impatiently. "When is the right time then?" he demanded. "You said he is distressed. If so, he needs our help now, not later." He glanced a little contritely at the somewhat flustered twin. "And in truth, I cannot bear this... this waiting any longer."

Elladan considered the matter then nodded. He followed the woodland Elf to where his brother sat beneath the eaves of a stunted tree some distance away from the center of camp.

Quietly, they dropped down on either side of him, taking him by surprise. He looked from one to the other cautiously, his glance at Legolas considerably more abrupt than the look he cast upon his twin. He shifted his position slightly, pulling his leg away when Legolas' thigh nudged his as the latter settled beside him.

"Something besets you, _muindor_"—brother—Elladan said gently. "Will you not share it with us? We would dearly like to help you."

The younger twin regarded him suspiciously then shook his head. "There is nothing," he insisted. "I am well."

"I wish we could believe that," Legolas murmured.

Elrohir stiffened. He darted a wary look at Legolas. "What do you want of me, Mirkwood prince?"

Legolas ignored the impersonal address and lay a comradely hand on Elrohir's where it rested upon his hard thigh. The warrior tried to extricate it but he held fast and gripped it even more snugly.

"Whatever divided us before matters not to me, Elrohir," the archer said softly. "I would that we be friends again. I wish you would tell me what went so wrong between us."

"I – nothing. There is nothing."

Elrohir was clearly uneasy now, whether from their joint pressure on him or Legolas' nearness, Elladan did not know. But there was no mistaking his slowly rising agitation as he strove to rid himself of their company.

"Leave me," he tersely requested. "I wish to be alone."

"Nay, you should not be alone," Elladan said frowningly. "Elrohir, what is wrong? What are you hiding from us? From me?"

The haunted gaze his brother turned on him nearly stripped him of his very breath. He began to reach out to hug his beleaguered twin, his heart wrenching at the unfathomable pain he had glimpsed in the argent eyes. But almost at the same moment, Legolas raised his hand and tucked a strand of raven silk behind Elrohir's ear.

Without warning, the Elf-knight reared out of the archer's reach, yanking his hand out of his grasp. He lurched to his feet, trembling so visibly it shocked the others. Elladan managed to clutch at one outstretched hand.

"Elrohir!" he exclaimed in alarm, rising to his feet as well. "Brother, what ails you!"

"Stay away!" Elrohir rasped, desperation in his tone. "Just stay away!"

It was impossible to know if he meant his warning for one or both of them for he looked at neither but stared almost longingly into the depths of the clustered trees behind them. Legolas had also risen and he now moved closer to peer anxiously at Elrohir. Once more he lifted a hand, placed it on the warrior's shoulder to rub it soothingly. It was a habitual gesture between them, nothing unusual in the least. Yet it had an electrifying effect on Elrohir.

He jerked away, snatched his hand from Elladan's grip.

"I told you to stay away!" he cried. "Leave me be!"

With that he turned and strode rapidly into the shadows of the surrounding woods. Elladan and Legolas stared after him in stunned bewilderment.

Glossary:  
gwanneth – younger twin  
ruth – sorrow or remorse (_archaic_)

_To be continued_…


	60. Crucible of Love 4

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
"What madness has taken him?" Elladan said, worry etching his smooth brow. He stepped forward to follow his twin.

Legolas stayed him. "Let me talk to him," he pleaded.

Elladan protested. "You saw his reaction to us," he pointed out. "He is distraught beyond belief. I have never seen him thusly."

"Nor I. Yet I would help him, Elladan," the archer said. "Let me do this. Let me help him if I can."

The Elf-lord looked at him uncertainly. Finally, he sighed and nodded. Legolas hurried after the younger twin.

He searched for several minutes, following the evidence of Elrohir's discomposed passage through the woods. Finally, he caught a glimpse of black against a slender tree trunk. The breeze carried a familiar and singularly appealing scent to him. Pine and heather and clean rushing waters. The sweet enticing scent of the hidden vale. Of Elrohir.

He came upon the twin seated upon the springy grass, leaning wearily against the tree, arms folded upon his bent knees, head bowed, eyes closed tightly.

Legolas got down on his knees and reached out to Elrohir. At a loss at how to ease the other, he pulled him into his arms and cradled him against his chest. The warrior started, then tried to pull away but Legolas refused to release him.

"I wish you would tell me what troubles you," he whispered.

Elrohir only shook his head, slumped against his friend. At least, he has stopped resisting, Legolas thought. That was a start.

He held his friend, stroking the sable hair, hoping his compassion and empathy might reach him. One thought comforted him in turn. Elrohir had been protective of him during the battle, leaving Halbarad's side to take his place by the archer as was his wont of old. Surely that signaled some change in him. A return perhaps to the comrade he knew?

He was startled when he felt Elrohir's face turn into his neck. He felt warm lips press tellingly against the slope of his throat. Legolas shivered. It was now some four hundred years since he'd last yielded to his friend when he'd comforted him during and after the dark day it was revealed that Celebrían would have to leave for the Blessed Realm ahead of her husband and children.

He cannot want this now, Legolas thought with some apprehension. I did not expect it. I am not prepared.

He hoped he was wrong. He hoped Elrohir would not ask it of him this day. But his hope failed him. He looked down at his friend and saw stormy grey eyes staring up at him. He knew the look in those eyes.

"Elrohir—"

He got no further. The raven-haired Elf grasped him by the nape and drew his head down. He gasped as their lips met in a hard, almost violent kiss. Legolas was caught by surprise. There was nothing gentle or caring about this. Only pure hunger. Sheer need.

He tried to pull away but Elrohir only increased his grip on him. Legolas became aware that though they were fairly equal in strength, passion would lend Elrohir greater power. That became evident when Elrohir broke off the kiss only to tug at the clasp of the prince's cloak so that it came open. With one hand he drew off the cloak and threw it down on the grass. Shocked, Legolas understood what he intended. He tried to pull away but Elrohir's grasp on his arm was hard and unyielding. Legolas felt his tunic being unfastened; he panicked and tried to struggle out of his friend's grip.

"Elrohir, stop!" he pleaded.

_Do not deny me!_

The imploring thought fairly cried out to him. Legolas' resistance faltered. Under other circumstances, he would have fought back and fled. But he could not forget Elrohir's grief, could not set aside the fear of losing his friend to whatever sadness was consuming him. For better or worse, his love for Elrohir would remain paramount no matter the consequences.

_I yielded before. I can do so again._

He did not resist when Elrohir bore him down upon his cloak. Yet it was all he could do not to protest when his friend tugged at the clasps of his tunic, tore at the lacing of his breeches, each motion brusque and hasty yet done with curious precision. Their ensuing intimacy bore none of the concern and care Elrohir had always shown him in the past. For the first time, Legolas did not feel loved but violated.

The feeling heightened when Elrohir took him with little preparation. It was a mercy his body was no longer untried and the warrior slid into him with little difficulty. But he was not fully aroused and was therefore unready for such a peremptory breaching. Given a little time he would have adjusted to the discomfort. But to his shock, Elrohir did not allow him even the briefest of respites but began to drive into him so brutally that he finally cried out in pain. He desperately clutched at the cloak beneath him; shut his eyes as he prayed it would soon be over.

His agonized countenance registered upon Elrohir's fevered senses. Remorse smote him at the sight of Legolas' distress and he moved to make amends no matter how belated. He slowed down, tempered the fierce edge of his thrusts and applied himself to ensuring the archer derived some pleasure from this feral coupling.

Legolas was relieved when Elrohir gentled his pace and the pain diminished. But he was startled when he felt the twin's hands upon him, fondling him with practiced skill. Shame singed him when his body responded to his friend's masterful ministrations. It should have been inconceivable that he would derive any pleasure from what was for all intents and purposes his ravaging by Elrohir but his body betrayed him and he came alive with each stroke and caress.

The bruising thrusts began once more, Elrohir driving into him so hard and deeply he thought he would burst. But the discomfort was blunted by the pleasure dealt by the other's hands and he soon lost himself to the sensations pooling forcefully in his groin.

His release came amidst an odd mixture of rapture and humiliation. To be so easily reduced to such wanton need even under virtual assault was degrading to say the least. He shuddered with relief when Elrohir's found his own completion. He did not think he could have borne more of the Elf-knight's near savage handling.

It felt like ages later when Legolas drew on his clothes. He was weary in body and spirit. His lips were slightly swollen; there was a bruised cut at the corner of his mouth. His slender frame bore dark marks from rough fingers and rapacious lips and teeth and he ached all over. His fingers shook as he tried to refasten the clasps on his tunic. His shoulders drooped. He could not even concentrate enough to get the simple task done.

He started when Elrohir knelt before him and brushed aside his hands. "Let me do it," the twin quietly said.

Legolas watched him in silence. When he was done, Elrohir rose once more. Legolas followed suit. He waited for the other to say something.

He needed answers. He wanted to know the reason for what had just happened. But when no explanation was forthcoming he decided to speak.

"Perhaps you'll tell me now what troubles you?" he quietly asked.

Elrohir shook his head. "There is nothing to tell."

"Elrohir—"

"There is nothing!"

The last was uttered with such cold finality that it stunned Legolas. He stared at his friend, his heart heavy with hurt. "Are you telling me that you made me do this for nothing?" he asked in a dangerously low voice.

Elrohir looked away. "I am sorry if I hurt you," was all he would say.

Legolas felt his throat tighten with indescribable anguish. Of a sudden he felt as if a stain was upon him. I swallowed my pride, buried my dignity and for what? he thought painfully. To save a friendship he no longer cares for? He felt tears of anger and sorrow sting his eyes. He fought to keep them dammed. He would shed no more of his dignity than he already had.

He picked up his cloak and pulled it on. Eyes glittering with unshed tears, he said: "I yielded for the sake of the love I have always borne you. The least you could have done was tell me that you no longer value it."

Though his voice shook with emotion, his gaze did not waver. He drew the hood over his golden head shadowing the injury on his mouth. Without another word, he turned away and walked back to the camp.

He did not know it but his words had their effect on Elrohir. The raven-haired Elf watched him go, his heart bursting with pain. But he could not bring himself to go after him.

'_Tis better this way. He will forget and so will I_.

oOoOoOo

Elladan was discouraged. Sitting by the campfire, he could not participate in the conversation of the Rangers on watch. His thoughts were too confused.

Though it was but hours since Legolas had followed Elrohir into the woods, presumably to talk, it felt more like days. Elladan had been hopeful that the bond between them would be restored, as would the close relationship the three of them had once shared. But that had not happened. Apparently, they had done more than just talk. Elladan did not know what had occurred between the two but he could tell it had been disastrous at best.

He looked at his brother who sat by himself in the dark shadow of a tree. He had kept to himself, scarcely exchanging a word with his companions. And he avoided Legolas as if his life depended on it.

Come to think of it, Legolas had done the same thing. Elladan turned his head to the prone figure of his friend who lay asleep some distance away from the rest of the company. He frowned. There was something unusual in the way Legolas lay. He got to his feet and walked to the Mirkwood Elf. Aye, that was it, he realized when he saw him.

Legolas was curled up on his side, his cloak wrapped around him like a shroud. It was not the way he had ever seen the Elf asleep. The prince always lay stretched out whether on his back or on his side. And he never wrapped himself with the cloak as he did now. With his natural resistance to extreme climates, there was no great need to do so.

He also noticed that the prince had kept the hood of the cloak up. How odd. And then it struck him that Legolas had worn it that way ever since… Apprehension filled Elladan. _What is he hiding?_

He knelt beside his friend, bent low and peered into his face. He blinked. There was a shadow at the side of his mouth. Elladan reached out and with infinite care so as not to disturb the sleeping Elf, pushed the hood aside.

He stared at the bruised cut that marred the perfect mouth. He fell back appalled. How...? Who...?

On the heels of that thought came suspicion. He jerked his head around and his eyes zeroed in on his brother. Swearing under his breath, he gently pulled the hood back into place and rose to his feet.

Swiftly he strode to his brother, his thoughts running into each other in his agitation. He dropped to his knee before Elrohir, startling the latter, and asked without preamble: "What did you do to Legolas?"

"What are you talking about?" Elrohir retorted.

"Why does he have a wound on his mouth?" Elladan persisted. "Did you strike him?"

"Of course not!" Elrohir said indignantly. "I would never raise a hand to him."

"Then what—?" Elladan went still, his eyes widening with shock. "Elrohir, you did not force him…" His voice trailed away for he was too horrified to continue.

"I do not take unwilling partners, Elladan!" his brother snapped, bristling at the very notion.

Elladan stared at him. It was as if he was talking to a stranger instead of the twin who had shared virtually every waking hour of life with him. Not just the aloof sibling of the last six years but a totally unknown entity.

"And how willing was he?" he asked harshly. "Or did you make it impossible for him to refuse?" Elrohir's start was enough to confirm his awful suspicions. He grabbed his twin by the arm. "How did he come to be hurt?" he hissed. "Tell me the truth, brother, or I will forget our kinship and do you harm!"

Elrohir wrenched his arm out of his brother's grasp. He stared back at Elladan, his eyes open wells of emotion. Elladan shivered at the darkness he saw in them.

"I was rough," Elrohir said. "That was all."

Elladan let out his breath. "Why would you do this to him?" he questioned. When Elrohir remained silent, he said, "Did you tell him why?" The other twin shook his head. "Sweet Eru, you made him yield and gave him no reason for it?" Elladan half exclaimed. He forced his voice down when the Rangers curiously turned their heads in their direction. "I cannot believe he did not want to know."

"He asked but I could not tell him," Elrohir conceded bending his head.

Elladan felt sick. "He went after you because he wanted to help you, because he wished to restore your friendship. And instead you—" He slammed his hand against the tree in outrage. "What has happened to you, Elrohir? What drives you that you should hurt one who has ever remained caring and true no matter what you asked of him?"

He sat back feeling spent. "He loved you enough to go beyond the bounds of friendship to aid you. How many do you think would make such a sacrifice for a friend? I know of none."

Still Elrohir refused to respond. Elladan grew angry. It was an alien feeling that he should feel this anger for his twin and the thought only fed his rage. He clenched his fists, trying to keep calm. What use would there be in striking his brother?

"You once said you could not bear to lose him," he whispered bitterly. "I see it is no longer true because, by Elbereth, you have ensured that Legolas will depart from our lives and never return. But perhaps that is exactly what you seek in which case I am wasting my time trying to talk sense into you."

He rose and returned to his place by the fire. If the Rangers noted the difference in his demeanor they did not comment on it. But none failed to discern that some great trouble now sundered the brethren.

_To be continued_…


	61. Crucible of Love 5

**AN:** Due to a bug in the system for the past three days or so, I could not log in, update, reply, PM or even review or be reviewed in turn. Happily, the problem has been fixed. In any case, thank you to everyone who took the time and effort to email their reviews to me. That was very kind of you.

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
They arrived in Rivendell within the week. That they had succeeded in their undertaking was cause for celebration. But there was a pall over the three Elves that immediately caught the attention of Lord Elrond. Yet try as he might he could get nothing out of them. But when Legolas went to see him the very next morning, he knew he had to act lest the friendship between Mirkwood and Rivendell be irrevocably ruined. He summoned his sons as soon as Legolas left his study.

Hardly had they entered when he announced briefly, "Legolas is leaving." At the twins' startled expressions, he continued: "He gave me no reason and has in fact already had his people prepare to depart. But I received the distinct impression that he will not be returning." He studied his sons. "Would you know the reason for this precipitous decision?"

He could not miss the accusing glance Elladan gave Elrohir. Of course, Elrond thought, it would have to do with Elrohir. "What have you to say about this, _gwanneth_?"—younger twin?—he pointedly asked.

Elrohir drew a deep breath. "I will speak to him," he said.

"If you do not mean what you would say, then it would be best if you just hold your tongue!" Elladan blurted out angrily.

Elrohir flushed. Elrond raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had never seen Elladan so angry with his twin. And what did he mean?

"Are you the reason for his departure, Elrohir?" Elrond inquired.

"Aye." It was the barest whisper.

Elrond frowned. "I do not wish to interfere in whatever it is that led to this rift. But you have been closing yourself off to all who care for you since Arathorn died." Elrohir stared at his father. Elrond nodded, satisfied that his conjecture was correct. "Oh yes, I have noticed this. It is no mere coincidence that you have been cold to all who love you since that tragedy occurred. Even your family have you held from you."

Misery surfaced on the Elf's face. "I am sorry, _Ada_"—Papa—he whispered. Beside him Elladan could only look from his father to his brother in bemusement.

"'Tis not to me that you should apologize, _iôn nîn_"—my son—Elrond said. "I am your father, I would never turn you away. But there are others who do not understand and in their pain will turn from you." He looked at the younger twin keenly. "Was it Arathorn's death that affected you so or was it merely the catalyst that released your fears?"

Elladan sucked his breath in sharply as enlightenment dawned on him. "Legolas was wounded and nearly perished," he stated. He stared at his brother. "That is what pained you. You thought he was going to die."

Elrohir did not answer but his face had whitened. Suddenly, he turned and fled the room. When Elladan would have gone after him, Elrond held him back.

"Let him be," he said. "He must deal with this by himself."

oOoOoOo

As Legolas slipped his leather bracers onto his arms, his eyes fell on the pile of belongings on the bed. He had not even used a quarter of what he had taken with him to Rivendell. But then again he had come expecting to stay for a longer length of time. Who would have thought his visit would be cut short so disastrously?

He sighed and looked out his window wistfully, his hands automatically continuing the task of lacing the bracers. He felt so cold and empty inside.

For as long as he could remember, he had relied on his friendship with the twins for everything that he considered good and pure. Love and loyalty, courage and strength, joy and laughter, even the occasional shoulder to cry on when grief touched his life. No longer.

He had friends in Mirkwood, of course. But it would not be the same. Elladan and Elrohir had given him something that the others could not. Because they were equals there was no need for reserve. He could simply be Legolas, an Elf of Mirkwood, unencumbered by the barrier of his rank and title. In them, he had also found the affection of brothers his own seldom gave him.

But that was over now. He would not be returning to Rivendell nor would he ever have the pleasure again of greeting them at the great stone doors of his father's halls in Mirkwood. That had ended when Elrohir turned his back on him.

He shuddered. He was not only saddened, he also felt despoiled. All his life he had stood by those he loved, resolved to be always there for them no matter the cost. He had never swerved from that path, not even when it had required great sacrifice or pain. The love one bore family and dearly held friends was worth suffering for.

That was what hurt him most. That Elrohir should have taken that love and discarded it in so brutal a manner pained him beyond belief. He thought of what he had done to keep their friendship intact, shivered at the memories of long ago in Mirkwood when he had first offered to ease Elrohir's unbidden need for him. _Was it worth it? Or was I a fool to have brought myself so low?_

Low. Aye, that was how he felt. For the first time he felt tainted. He had given too much of himself. _I should never have yielded, not even that first time_. Yet even as he thought this he knew it was not in him to deny his most beloved friend.

He became aware of another presence in the room. Glancing up he could not help paling when he saw Elrohir at his door. The sable-haired Elf was staring at his packed belongings. After a moment, he turned to look at Legolas with the most open expression the prince had yet seen on him since his arrival in Rivendell.

"So, 'tis true," he said, voice limned with apprehension. "You are leaving."

Legolas looked at him woodenly. "There is no reason for me to stay."

Elrohir swallowed hard and bit his lip. "You are leaving because of what I did to you."

Legolas looked away, eyes shuttered. Elrohir saw the still-visible bruise at the corner of his mouth. Such a minor injury should have vanished by now. That it still lingered attested to the dampening of Legolas' spirit and the attendant failure of his body's ability to heal swiftly.

"Forgive me," he whispered. "I should not have done that."

Blue eyes snapped back to him, bright with pain. "Then why did you?" Legolas asked tightly. "What wrong did I do that you should hate me so?"

"I do not hate you."

"Nay? Then what is it you feel toward me? I know it is not love, not anymore. I lost my friend in the woods. You are a stranger now."

"Do not say that—"

"What should I say then?" Legolas cried in anger. "I abased myself for your sake. Did the unthinkable because I did not want to end our friendship! And you have rewarded my efforts with your coldness! What is it you feel, Elrohir? Contempt? Scorn? Do you see me as weak and unworthy because I allowed you to use me as you saw fit?"

Even as he spoke, Elrohir had crossed the room to him. Before he could step out of the way, the other Elf had enclosed him in a tight embrace.

"Stop, do not say these things!" Elrohir pleaded. When Legolas tried to pull away, he only tightened his hold. "'Twas never your fault," he said urgently.

Legolas dropped his arms. He felt too drained to protest much. "Why then?" he wearily asked. "Why did you turn against me?"

Elrohir drew back and forced himself to look his friend in the eye. "I was afraid," he whispered.

The prince stared at him. "Afraid of what?" he asked.

Elrohir gazed at him uncertainly. "You are willing to listen?"

Legolas paused then nodded. "'Tis what I have been waiting for," he replied. "An answer."

Elrohir released him and he sank down into a chair. The twin did the same in the chair facing him. For a moment Elrohir hesitated, unsure how to begin. At length, he sighed and looked at Legolas. "It started when you were wounded trying to save Arathorn."

Legolas nodded. He had not forgotten his close brush with death. The arrows that had pierced him were poisoned and by the time they had gotten him back to Rivendell, he had been so ill and weak they had almost lost hope. Elrond had had to put forth all his skill and knowledge to pull him back from the brink of death.

Nonetheless, the admission puzzled him. "I have been injured in battle before," he said. "'Twas not the first time you had seen me wounded."

"But 'twas the first time you almost died."

"I do not understand."

"There are only two in all Arda whom I cannot bear to lose. One is Elladan." The twin hesitated here, aware of the need to tread carefully. "The other is you." Before a stunned Legolas could think clearly enough to react, he hastened on. "Seeing you so white and still... I nearly broke. When father healed you I felt I had to stop caring. I had to stop feeling anything for anyone."

Legolas stared at him. "Why?" he gasped.

"I felt safer not loving at all," Elrohir softly admitted. "You know of what I speak. You vowed to close your heart as well."

"I only closed my heart to that which lovers share," Legolas objected. "But I never turned my back on my family or friends. I never forsook you," he added, anger limning his words.

Elrohir blanched slightly at the prince's pointed retort.

"You are right, you were always there for me," he conceded. "But I could not help my fear. If not for Estel..." He sighed. "I began to feel again because of him. For Father and Arwen. For Elladan... You."

Silence fell upon them for a spell as the prince tried to come to grips with what had been revealed.

"And what did you feel in the woods?" Legolas whispered at length. "What did you want from me?"

Elrohir flushed. "Despite what you may think of me, I did not do that out of mere lust. During our fight with the Orcs, I remembered once more what happened to you when Arathorn died. All I could think was that it might happen again."

"But I was unhurt. What grieved you afterwards?"

Elrohir raised haunted eyes to him. "I realized I still cared. Despite all my efforts, I still felt for you. 'Tis why I fled from you and Elladan. I wanted to be alone. I needed to shut my heart again. When you followed…"

Legolas looked away. "I had thought to help you," he said tersely.

"I know. But you came to me at the wrong time."

"Why?"

"Because I had closed my heart too long and being that near to you was more than I could bear yet more than I could resist. I needed to know you again, to feel the closeness we'd once shared. If I was rough 'twas not out of hate; 'twas out of anger at myself for caring again."

Legolas gazed at him with pained eyes. "Why did you not tell me this when I asked? You let me believe that I had done something so wrong that you could not even bear my presence."

"I sought to make you hate me." Elrohir could not help flinching at the other's shocked expression. "I thought that if I could make you lose whatever regard you had for me, then I would also find the means to stop caring for you."

Legolas stared at him in disbelief. "If that is so, why are you here now?" he asked, his voice hard.

"Because I now know that 'tis not possible to stop. Father saw through me. He made me face my fear, made me see my folly."

Legolas said no more but simply stared unseeingly in front of him. Elrohir searched his countenance for any sign of softening. But there was none. Filled with dread, he stood up and approached the prince. He knelt in supplication before Legolas, wincing when the archer visibly flinched at his proximity. He swallowed his anguish and looked imploringly at his friend.

"I would beg you to forgive me but I know that what I did is unforgivable. Yet I would ask you to stay not for my sake but for Elladan's. He is heartsick at the thought of losing your friendship. I would not have him punished for something I did." He hesitated then went on though he felt his heart would break at the offer he had to make. "I swear I will stay away from you," he whispered. "I will not trouble you or do anything to discomfort you while you are here. Just... do not go... please."

Legolas did not know how to respond. It was too much to take in. He turned away feeling confused and not a little resentful.

"Please leave me," he said, "I need to think."

Elrohir felt his heart shatter. _I have truly lost him_. Without a sound, he rose and left the room.

He kept his word. Soon after he learned that Legolas had changed his mind about leaving. But on the heels of his relief came immeasurable sadness. He rejoiced for his brother, but for himself there was only despair. Still he remained true to his oath. He stayed away.

In the weeks that followed, he watched from afar, gladdened by the sight of his brother and his friend in each other's company. If his heart ached he kept it to himself for he did not feel himself worthy of sympathy. Not even Elladan's comfort would he accept, feeling as he did that he did not merit his own twin's affections.

Only in Estel did he find consolation for the child's attachment did not wane but only grew stronger.

He spent many hours with the boy, oft taking care of him when Gilraen was resting. Just being in Estel's company soothed his battered spirit and helped to ease some of his heartbreak. For this he was profoundly grateful.

He was watching Legolas and Elladan again one afternoon as they practiced their archery. As always, he remained hidden behind the clutch of tall shrubbery that edged the archery yard. He could not help gazing wistfully at Legolas, regret reverberating through his veins. It was inconceivable that anyone could lose such a treasure after having known its worth yet he had done just that. He closed his eyes against the sight of his dearest desire now forever lost to him.

_Elbereth, it hurt so much!_

He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was his father. Elrond was gazing at him with great compassion.

"When will you forgive yourself?" he gently asked.

Elrohir swallowed hard. "How can I when he has not?" he whispered.

"Have you asked him again?"

The warrior shook his head hopelessly. "He never will for I am not worthy of it."

"You cannot keep punishing yourself, _iôn_."—son.

Elrohir said nothing. After a moment, he excused himself and walked away. Elrond sadly watched him go.

_To be continued_…


	62. Crucible of Love 6

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI  
It was late and all was silent in the Last Homely House but Elrohir could not sleep. Seeking solace he rose from his bed and stepped out onto his balcony. Stealing a glance to his left, he espied the flickering light shining through the window of the bedchamber just three doors from his. It seemed sleep also eluded his friend.

Nay, he could no longer address the Mirkwood prince as that. He had forfeited the privilege to do so that mad afternoon in the woods south of the Ered Mithrin. He resolutely turned his eyes back to the view before him.

He stared at the darkened landscape, then gazed up at the stars. But he could find no peace. All he could feel was the dreadful weight in his heart that refused to diminish but only seemed to grow ever heavier with each passing day.

It was now more than a month since he'd last spoken with Legolas. More than a month since he'd sworn never to trouble the Sindarin archer with his presence again. It had been the bleakest period he had ever yet experienced. As always, in times of grief and trouble, his mortal half beckoned temptingly. More than ever he felt the lure of Men's brief existence; hearkened to the promise of an end to sorrow and suffering that was not permitted the Firstborn.

Wearily, he laid his elbows on the balustrade and raised his hands to cover his face. Several minutes ticked by before he sensed that he was not alone. Warily, he lifted his head and turned to see who the intruder was. He was taken aback to see Legolas at the other end of the balcony, leaning against the balustrade. He straightened up.

"How—?" he started to ask. Then he saw the overhanging branches of the tree by the balcony and realized how the prince had made his way there. "You climbed from your room?" he asked in disbelief.

Legolas shrugged. "As you once told me, it is more discreet this way." He approached Elrohir. "You have been keeping to yourself," he said.

Elrohir averted his eyes. "I promised you that I would stay away."

"I do not recall accepting your offer," Legolas softly pointed out.

Elrohir turned back and stared at him. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Why seek me out when you must despise me so?"

"Despise you?" Legolas sighed. "I could never despise you, Elrohir."

"You should. I wronged you terribly."

"I do not dwell on it. I only know that I have missed your company these many weeks."

Elrohir gazed at him in surprise. "Why should you miss me?" he choked. "I caused you so much pain."

Legolas returned his gaze, his eyes sad and troubled. "Because you are still the dearest of all whom I hold dear," he whispered.

The gently spoken words took Elrohir's breath away. Tears stung his eyes. They were like a balm to his wounded heart. And coming as they did all unexpectedly, they were a gift to his soul. He closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling, his warrior's pride refusing to let him weep in front of his friend. Still his guilt and shame did not completely abate.

"I do not deserve you," he said brokenly.

Legolas pulled him into a heartfelt embrace. "Hush, do not say that," he murmured.

Elrohir held him tightly, buried his face in the crook of his neck. He did not know how long they remained thus. He only knew that he felt at peace, as he had not in a long time. One thing only was missing.

"Please forgive me," he whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive. I only want us to be friends again."

Elrohir pulled away. "That is what I wish, too. To be as we were before I desired you." He looked away, his eyes pensive. "I regret now that you ever found out how I felt."

"Why should you have regrets when I do not?" Legolas said.

Elrohir could not help looking at him curiously. "You are as kind as you are mettlesome," he quietly remarked. "Others would not have been so accepting." He paused. "You should have fought me in the woods, Legolas," he finally said. "Why didn't you?"

The prince hesitated. "You needed me," he finally replied.

"Sirgon needed you and he was your friend as well."

"But not as close to my heart as you."

Elrohir turned his dark gaze on him. He was filled with great wonder that he should have ever gained so much loyalty and love from anyone who was not his kin. He noticed the bruise on Legolas' mouth, faint but still discernible. Strange, it should have disappeared by now.

He reached out and regretfully ran his thumb over it. To his relief, Legolas leaned into his touch, a small smile gracing his lips. The twin suddenly felt a great urge to kiss the bruise away.

He put his thought into action but as lightly as possible, barely brushing his lips against the fading mark. He had no intention of asking anything more from Legolas. The other had already given him too much. But Legolas turned his face and their lips touched.

He drew back, startled. Their faces were just inches away. Elrohir felt the change in his body, knew that desire was upon him once more.

"I think you had better leave, Calenlass," he whispered. "I do not wish to hurt you again."

Sapphire eyes glittered in the dim light. "Nay, I do not wish to leave," the prince murmured.

Elrohir stared at him but the other's gaze did not falter. The dark-haired Elf gave up and closed the gap between them. He strove to be gentle and undemanding; he did not want a repeat of the transgression he had committed against his friend. But he was all undone when Legolas responded with alacrity, his lips opening under his.

Groaning inwardly, he deepened the kiss, pulling Legolas flush against him. Surprise awaited him when both kiss and embrace were fully returned. All the times the prince had yielded to him there had always been an element of restraint on his part. He had always been pliant and cooperative, nothing more, and Elrohir had been content.

This was different. There was far more than pliancy here. He trailed kisses along the prince's finely chiseled jaw, drifted down to the smooth column of his throat. He heard the soft intake of breath, felt the tremor that passed through the slender, muscular body in his arms. He was astonished when he felt Legolas press against him in active pleasure.

His passion flared, desire deepened. When he released Legolas it was not to free him but to lead him into his room. No words were spoken as they peeled away each other's raiment; there was no need for any. Even when they came together upon the bed, they still said nothing. Words were superfluous in this moment of reconciliation. Action said everything.

Yielding once more to the Elf-knight, Legolas reveled in this coupling as much as he had recoiled from the last. Making up for his previous brutality, Elrohir lavished upon him all the tender passion and fervent loving in his being. He repeatedly brought the prince to the highest peaks of pleasure and the greatest depths of passion, seeking to erase the shame and violence of their earlier encounter.

He had Legolas moaning helplessly as he made his way down the archer's lean form, kissing, laving and caressing virtually every inch of flesh along the way; had him clawing at the sheet beneath him as he skillfully pleasured him, voraciously taking tiny draughts of sweet-salty cream with each suckle until the prince, hips wildly bucking in purest rapture, spent himself in full. Lying dazedly upon the rumpled sheets, Legolas blushed as he watched Elrohir luxuriate in the opulent mouthful before downing it, smiling in sheer bliss as he did.

When their bodies joined at last, it proved a most felicitous experience as the archer dared to unleash what he had long kept secret from the Elf-knight. Their wondrous forms melded in a coupling more ardent than any they had yet shared, their ecstasy greater than in all their previous unions. Afterwards, they lay together, drained and thoroughly sated, Legolas nestled comfortably in Elrohir's protective embrace. Still they did not speak. Words were for the morrow in the full light of day. For now, they let sleep overcome them, their spent bodies sinking into the peace of restful repose.

oOoOoOo

Bathed in the cool light of early morning, Elrohir curiously watched Legolas as the latter dressed. More surprises had been sprung on him last night. He wondered about them.

For one he had awakened to find Legolas still beside him. During that entire fateful week in Mirkwood, never had the prince remained in bed with him past daybreak. If the night had been passed in his chamber, he had invariably risen, dressed and waited until Elrohir woke up. And though he had twice gone to Elrohir's room he had left it when dawn came. That had not changed that time in Rivendell when the archer had comforted the twin in his sorrow.

Elrohir had understood. What Legolas did for him was out of love for a friend. But he had neatly separated his two functions of boon companion and lover, never melding the two together. Leaving Elrohir's side as soon as the sun rose had been a way of keeping that dichotomy intact.

_So why did he not leave me now?_

Elrohir did not deny that it had filled him with delight and contentment to find him there. To reach over and gather him against his tall frame and wait for him to awaken. And when he had, Legolas had not pulled away and risen from the bed but had lain there awhile until his drowsiness had passed.

As for the other surprise… He involuntarily shivered at the memory of powerful legs locked fiercely around his waist, flexing unexpectedly to draw him ever more deeply into the heated confines of the prince's supple form. Legolas' needful, urgent response had shaken him to the core even as it had spurred him into explosive release bare seconds after the archer found his.

"Legolas?"

"Hm?"

"There is something I do not understand." The archer looked up at him and raised a golden eyebrow, waiting for his question. "Last night, you were... different," Elrohir said somewhat hesitantly.

"How was I different?"

"I know that when you lie with me 'tis out of friendship. I do not resent that. 'Tis natural for you not to want anything more than whatever pleasure I give you. But last night…" He paused. Legolas had gone still; was looking at him, his eyes unreadable. "Last night, 'twas as if you…" He could not continue for his idea seemed so absurd it did not bear saying.

"As if I desired it," Legolas finished for him. He drew a deep breath. "I did."

Elrohir stared at him nonplussed. "But you are no lover of males," he said incredulously.

Legolas considered the matter then gravely said: "'Tis true, I care not for the love of _ellyn_; do not crave the touch of any. Save yours." He smiled a little at Elrohir's expression. "Remember what you once said about love and desire having no rational reason for being and that the rules of attraction apply to everyone?"

"Aye, I remember."

"I understand now what you meant. If I find pleasure in what we do and should even now desire it, 'tis because I share it with you. I feel nothing with other _ellyn_."—male Elves. He paused, searching for the right words. At last he admitted: "You draw me as others do not."

Elrohir could only stare at him, a blistering mix of emotions stirring within him. In that moment, he knew his love for Legolas had deepened beyond redemption of any kind. There would be no going back for him, no assuaging of the fire that consumed him. Not even in the beds of the most comely maids of Arda would he ever find more than brief respite from his passion. And as for lying with another _ellon_...even the mere thought was abhorrent if that _ellon_ was not he whom he loved; he had not bedded another since claiming the Mirkwood prince all those centuries ago. But he also knew he could not voice this truth just yet.

He had thought to confess his love to his friend now that they were reconciled and closer than ever. The temptation had grown stronger in the wake of Legolas' surprisingly passionate response to him during their coupling. But the archer's palpably reluctant admission made him reconsider.

Legolas may have discovered that he enjoyed yielding his body to Elrohir but the heart was a completely different thing. Elrohir did not wish to lose the trust and affection the Wood-elf held for him and he instinctively discerned that both would be significantly diminished should Legolas discover the depths of his feelings for him. The prince simply was not prepared for yet another earth-shaking revelation from one he deemed dearest of all his friends.

Elrohir wondered if he would ever be permitted the relief of an admission to Legolas. Not that it would change anything. Whether blessing or doom, his heart was given. It was Legolas' to do with as he wished whether he one day accepted it or never. He fully understood as so very few did the real nature of true love.

He became aware of the archer's curious regard; realized something of his feelings must have shown in his mien and would lead the archer to think him troubled anew. He moved to allay his friend's budding anxiety.

"Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?" he asked, carefully keeping his tone much lighter than he actually felt.

Legolas smiled, his incipient perturbation dissipating. "Always," he replied beamingly. "And I shall never tire of hearing it."

Elrohir noticed then that the fading bruise by his mouth had completely vanished. It seemed he had not been the only one in need of healing.

The wailing of a child suddenly pierced the early morning quiet.

"Elbereth! 'Tis Estel!" Elrohir exclaimed, recalling that Gilraen occasionally indulged herself in early morning strolls while her son still slept. "He must be alone."

Legolas grinned. "Then you had best go to him before he rouses all of Imladris," he suggested. "And I think I should return to my own room. Discreetly," he added.

With a wink at Elrohir he walked out to the balcony and vanished into the branches of the tree outside. Elrohir chuckled and set off to appease the crying child.

_To be continued_…


	63. Crucible of Love 7

_**Crucible of Love**_  
_by Eressë_

Epilogue  
Elrond watched as his sons and Legolas entertained Estel in the gardens. Elrohir was flat on his back with Estel straddling him and they were mock wrestling with the Elf-knight pretending to be overwhelmed. Elladan and Legolas watched with mirth, calling encouragement to the child. Elrond smiled with gladness.

He saw Elladan pick up Estel and Legolas reach out his hand to help Elrohir to his feet. The prince pulled his friend up but inadvertently put more force into the motion than was needed which brought Elrohir up close to him. For a few seconds the two of them stood eye to eye. And then they drew apart and turned back to Elladan who was fussing with little Estel.

Elrond drew in his breath. There could be no mistaking what had passed between the two Elves in that briefest of contacts. Master Elrond knew it all too well. It was the look of people who had recently shared the greatest intimacy possible between two beings.

He considered the two more keenly. He had not been surprised about Elrohir's feelings. When an Elf's nature chose to exert its pull upon one there was virtually no resisting it. Whatever his son's eventual choices in life, the Lord of Rivendell would be there to guide or support him as the need may be. But he was surprised regarding Legolas. He had not expected the woodland prince to continue intimacy with his son beyond that Mirkwood week.

Thranduil was wary of the old ways, would be hesitant to accept in his own children what his people had come to regard as a gratuitous practice from the ancient past. It was improbable that the Elvenking did not know of the relationship between his favorite child and Elrond's younger son. That he had not forbidden it, had in fact suffered it within his halls, was a remarkable departure from his typical dislike of what was outside the traditions of his realm. Elrond wondered how Legolas had blunted his father's disapproval. And how in Arda did the young prince cope with answering Elrohir's need?

He does it out of friendship even if it means going above and beyond what is normally expected of friendship, Elrond deduced. He does it because he cherishes what he and Elrohir share. My son is very fortunate to have inspired such loyalty and devotion. The lore master wondered though where it would lead.

"It seems they are friends again," he heard Erestor say at his shoulder. The counsellor had quietly joined him on the porch.

"Yes, much to my relief. 'Tis good to hear their laughter once more."

"Did you ever discover what caused the rift?"

Elrond shook his head. Actually he now had a good idea what their quarrel had been all about but he was not about to speak of such intimate matters even to one he trusted as much as he did his chief steward. There were some things that had to be kept within the family.

He sighed in resignation. Even in matters of love and friendship it seemed his sons managed to outdo themselves. They never did do anything by halves. Ah well, he thought with some humor, 'tis better than mischief and mayhem. Mayhap Imladris will survive this age after all.

He and Erestor turned to go into the house. A loud crash and shouts of dismay reached them, however, and they hurried back to see what had happened. A ludicrous sight greeted their eyes.

Estel had gotten away from Elladan and had managed to push a garden urn over, spilling out its contents, which in this case was much earth and pebbles. Not content with that he had proceeded to play with the soil and, when his three guardians tried to deter him, promptly wiped his grubby little hands on their clothes and faces. They looked far from happy.

Elrond sighed. Then again maybe not.

The End

**Part 15:** Diversionary Tactics – The ancient path is no place for a future king of Men to tread and Elladan is tasked with diverting young Aragorn from it. Rating: T (het)


	64. Interlude: Diversionary Tactics

**Summary:** The ancient path is no place for a future king of Men to tread and Elladan is tasked with diverting young Aragorn from it.

**Characters:** Aragorn/OFC, Legolas/Elrohir (implied), Elladan/OFC (implied)

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's note:** Think of this as a short breather after the gravity of _Crucible of Love_. This is also the first of the stories set within the timeline of events in _The Hobbit_ and _LotR_. The finding of the One Ring by Bilbo Baggins and the Battle of the Five Armies took place in T.A. 2940.

_**Interlude: Diversionary Tactics**_  
_by Eressë_

Imladris, _Viressë_ T.A. 2947  
"He is too attached to Elrohir."

Elladan looked up curiously upon hearing his father's comment. They were in Lord Elrond's study, going over correspondence. From time to time, Elladan and his twin brother, Elrohir, took turns helping their father in the administration of Rivendell's affairs. This afternoon, it was the older twin's turn.

"Who is?" he asked, shifting to observe his father.

Elrond stood by the wide window overlooking the garden, a letter he'd been reading forgotten for the moment in his hand.

"Estel."

Elladan raised an eyebrow in some surprise.

"He always has been," he remarked. "Why do you deem it unusual now?"

Elrond glanced briefly at his older son before nodding in the direction of whatever he observed beyond the window.

"His regard has grown over the years," he said. "I fear it may turn unseemly if 'tis not discouraged."

Elladan rose from behind his father's desk. He had been answering several letters for Elrond. He joined the elder Peredhel at the window and looked out.

Several yards away on the lush verdant lawn, Legolas dueled with Estel while Elrohir stood just behind the lad, correcting his stance or grip or stroke every now and then. With each gently voiced instruction, Estel would look at him in patent adoration. Elladan had to smile. Arathorn's son had not changed in his regard for the younger twin since the day he first laid eyes on him as a two-year-old.

His storm blue eyes went on to study his twin and their Mirkwood friend. It was heartening to see that their bond in friendship if not in love was not only restored but also stronger than ever. After the near severance of that friendship eight years ago, Elladan could only pray such a tragedy would not befall them again. In particular, he was grateful his brother's blithe spirit was returned for now. Though there were times Elladan would wonder for how long, worry nipping annoyingly at the fringes of his musings. He brushed the disquieting thoughts aside and returned to the matter at hand.

"Why does it trouble you that he esteems Elrohir so highly?" he queried.

Elrond sighed. "If he were an Elf, I would not mark it. But Estel must one day wed and sire heirs. The line of Elendil must not fail just because his latest descendant decides to tread the ancient path."

Elladan stared at his father incredulously. "But Estel is no Elf," he said. "He is a Man. He would not care for the ancient path."

"And can we be so certain of this?" Elrond pointed out. "Not only has he been raised in Imladris, he is of our blood, heir of my brother's house. Who can know that the duality of our nature does not run in his veins?" He looked out the window once more.

Estel had dropped his sword in jubilation after managing to defend himself against one of Legolas' trickier strokes. He now threw his arms around the Elf-knight, grinning with great pride at having accomplished this before his adored foster brother.

"He has had little exposure to women and certainly there are none now in Imladris who might tempt him away from your brother's attractions," Elrond commented. "Iorwen is wed to Ailios, Almáriel is all but promised to Daurin and there are no _ellyth_ in all the vale who are still unbound or unbetrothed. What if the duality merely slumbers within him and should awaken through Elrohir? Would you have the line of the Kings come to an end because of this?"

Elladan pursed his lips, watching as the youth continued to stay close by his twin, nearly every other glance or smile directed at Elrohir with palpable worship.

"I see what you mean," he remarked. And then he grinned. "Very well, _Ada_, I will take it upon myself to wean him from Elrohir's considerable charms."

Elrond looked sharply at him. "And what do you have in mind?"

"I think a visit to the Bree-land is in order," the older twin smirked. "I know someone in Staddle who may be of assistance in this matter."

His father raised a dubious eyebrow at him. "I am sure you do," he said wryly. "I will entrust this endeavor to you, _gwaniuar_. But remember, Estel's identity must not be revealed. I would that none even know he hails from Imladris."

"You need not worry about that," Elladan assured him. "None know who Elrohir and I really are and we have frequented the Bree inns for centuries."

Elrond snorted. "I do not think I want to know why you frequent them," he said.

Elladan laughed. "Now, _Ada_, you know that I have been chaste for many a year. Nimeithel would not be pleased were I to so lightly break my promise to her. Elrohir however..." He grinned. "'Twill be a simple matter to seek one of his, er, close acquaintances and ask for this favor."

Elrond barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Just keep in mind that Estel is but a lad and mortal besides," he counseled. "I will not have him returned to Imladris worn out from over exertion!"

Elladan chuckled at his father's succinct reminder of his former exertions.

oOoOoOo

"I do not understand why we must travel all the way to Staddle when The Forsaken Inn is perfectly comfortable," Estel grumbled as he and Elladan rode down the Great East Road toward the Bree-land.

"Because The Forsaken Inn, while perfectly comfortable as you say, does not have what I have in mind for you," Elladan replied mildly.

"And just what do you have in mind for me, _gwanur_?" Estel asked a little testily. "What is so important about this trip that you would not have Elrohir come with us?"

Elladan smiled faintly at the boy. At sixteen, Estel was as comely as any Elf-lad. He was taller than most human youths and possessed of the slender form and easy grace of his Elven forebears. Eventually, of course, he would gain the more muscular build of his race but he would never be as brawny as the impetuous Rohirrim or even his own Dúnedain kin. He was, after all, of the line of Elros and through him a direct descendant of the Elvenkings of Doriath and Gondolin.

"Elrohir would only hinder the lesson I must teach you," Elladan said cryptically. At Estel's suspicious scowl, he grinned and said: "Oh, come now, surely you trust me to seek what is best for you. Or is Elrohir your only brother?"

At that, the scowl faded to be replaced by a look both dismayed and penitent.

"I am sorry, Elladan!" he exclaimed. "I did not mean to imply that I trust you less than Elrohir!"

Elladan chuckled. "I know, _tôr neth_. But prove it now by questioning me no more about my plans for you."

Estel gulped and nodded. He did trust Elladan. It was just that he had heard enough tales of the twins' earlier escapades to make him just the least bit worried about what his Elven brother had in store for him.

"Oh, by the way, you will go by the name of Arnur and say you are from Esgaroth," Elladan added.

"Why must I—?"

"Trust me wholly or not at all," the warrior mildly chided him. Estel bit back his questions though his thoughts milled about in wary confusion.

They arrived in Staddle that evening, Estel a little worn out by the long ride and envious of Elladan's seemingly inexhaustible energy. To think they had camped only thrice and briefly at that on their way here. Well, what did he expect, traveling with his Elf-brother? He sighed as he dismounted in the courtyard before the Inn of the – he squinted at the rather faded sign – Golden Stag. Ha! There was nothing golden about this questionable establishment, he decided, his mouth forming a scowl.

Not for the last time did he wish he were back home in Rivendell. With Elrohir. But he could not turn down Elladan's invitation to join him on this rather mysterious trip. Particularly when his Ada Elrond made it clear that he wanted him to go.

They entered the dim premises. Cloaked and hooded, they appeared as any traveller passing through this once important neck of the woods. Except of course for Elladan's exceptional height and the grace with which he and Estel carried themselves. Nevertheless, little attention was paid to them by the other denizens of the common room. That is, until Elladan let down his hood, revealing his countenance. Almost at once, eyes snapped to him in patent fascination.

"Gilgon!"

Estel nearly jumped a foot in the air at the passionate shriek. He stared gapingly at the buxom young woman who hurried across the crowded room, swept Elladan into an ardent embrace and bestowed a most lustful kiss on him. She pulled back to look at him, the admiration in her eyes bordering on covetous.

"Hello, Miradeth," Elladan grinned. "You haven't aged a day since last we met, beauteous one."

"Flatterer!" she purred. "And you are more magnificent than I remember, my lord Elf." She eyed him salaciously. "Will I get to see if my memory serves me right?"

Estel listened to their exchange goggle-eyed. He knew of his foster brothers' carnal exploits but to hear of them was one thing. To see evidence of it was another. This woman was just about ready to pounce on Elladan and he did not doubt that had they been in a more private setting, the deed would have been done as soon as the Elf-lord had revealed himself.

He watched a little anxiously as Elladan drew the woman aside. She was handsome, he had to admit, though by no means refined in any way. But that was unfair, of course. He could hardly compare a mortal female to the Elf-women of Rivendell. And this one was no lady at all but a – a tart. That was the kindest word he could think of.

Elladan, meanwhile, was buttering up said tart with the most outrageous compliments he could think of. And Miradeth lapped it up. How could she not when she was being flattered by the most comely being ever to grace the common room of the inn?

"I am pleased to see your establishment doing so well," Elladan said at length. "I trust many of my kindred have patronized it as well?"

Miradeth smiled. "Aye, you and your brother did me and my folk a good turn, telling others about the Golden Stag. We sometimes get more Elves here than even the Prancing Pony over at Bree!" She said this with no little pride. "Are you staying the night, my lord?" she added hopefully.

He grinned. "_We_ are staying."

The emphasis on "we" propelled her attention to Estel. The boy had drawn back his hood as well, revealing his comely features. Miradeth's eyes gleamed with sudden interest.

"He is not an Elf," she remarked.

"Nay, he is not."

"But handsome enough to pass for one."

"Ah, so you noticed."

She looked at him curiously, catching his suggestive tone.

"What have you got in mind?" she asked bluntly.

Elladan laughed. "That is what I like about you," he smiled. "You always cut to the chase." He glanced at Estel. "He is still innocent. _Too_ innocent."

Miradeth regarded the now obviously nervous lad. And then she looked back at Elladan, a patently predatory smile curving her lips.

"I take it you would have him a little less so before you return home?" she cooed.

"Aye, if you would take him under your wing."

"And how long am I to keep him under my wing?"

Elladan chuckled. "As long as you need to teach him what you know. Think yourself up to it?" he teased.

She drew herself up to her full height, which still did not bring her much higher than his chin.

"The question should be, is _he_ up to it?" she rejoined smugly.

Elladan laughed out loud, causing Estel to fidget even more. What in Arda was his older brother hatching with that floozy? And why did he have a sinking feeling that it involved him?

Elladan finally returned to him, still smirking at Miradeth's last rather lubricious comments. Estel wasted no time demanding some answers.

"Who is she?" he asked. "And why did she call you Gilgon?"

"Miradeth's cousins run this inn and she helps them... entertain their more distinguished guests," Elladan replied. "Gilgon is the name Elrohir uses in these parts. I'm known as Ergil."

Estel blinked, more puzzled than ever. "Then why did you lead her to believe that you are Elrohir?"

"Because, my inquisitive _pen neth_, 'tis Elrohir who has been bedding her these past years, not I. I could hardly ask a favor of her if I had not been intimate with her before, now could I?"

"What favor?" Estel queried suspiciously.

"You will see," Elladan said, mirth edging his voice. "Now, shall we have supper? Miradeth requires some time to prepare.'

"Prepare what?" Estel asked, getting more and more anxious by the minute.

But Elladan merely hauled him over to an empty table and ordered a light repast for two. He continued to badger his reticent brother but when bowls of steaming stew and a loaf of crusty bread were set before them, he forgot his resolve. Two tankards of foaming beer later, he had found the wherewithal to relax as well.

He was completely at ease when Elladan glanced toward the stairs then turned to grin at him and say: "She is ready for you, _pen neth_."—young one.

Estel's smile abruptly vanished and he looked tremulously towards the stairs, glimpsing a flash of skirts on the landing.

"Ready for me?" he near squeaked.

Elladan rose and pulled him up as well, eyed gleaming wickedly. "Aye, for you," he said. "There are swords other than those found on the field of battle. 'Tis time you learned to wield yours. Now remember, you are Arnur of Esgaroth."

With that, he propelled the hapless boy up the stairs and along the upper floor corridor to keep his rendezvous with enlightenment.

oOoOoOo

Some days later, the two were once more on the East Road headed back for home. It was a lovely spring day, the woods along the road lush with flora and foliage, the treetops resounding with trilling birdcalls, the air redolent with the fresh scent of new growth. A fitting match for Estel's mellow mood.

Elladan grinned at the somewhat dopey smile on his young charge's face. There had been no surcease of such felicitous expressions since he'd been released from Miradeth's tutelage just that very morning. At least she did not wear him out too much, the Elf-lord snickered to himself. And the boy certainly had endurance. Four days running and with only a few brief breaks for sustenance and bathing. Not bad for a mortal of only sixteen summers.

"Elladan?"

"Hm?"

"Why her?"

A sable eyebrow rose in amusement. "I do not recall you complaining about her... methods."

Estel blushed deeply. "Nay, I did not mean to suggest that she was lacking," he protested. "But why did you choose her? Surely there are villages that lie closer to Imladris and with as many willing maids, too."

"Ah, but I thought you would appreciate learning your bed-manners from her," he chuckled. "Considering that Elrohir has ever been your guide in almost all matters."

Estel screwed up his face in bemusement. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Everything, _tôr neth_. 'Twas Elrohir who broke her in so to speak."

Estel stared at him. "You mean he—?"

"Was her bed-teacher, aye. And he has oft said that she was one of his most dedicated and able students. So you see, you reaped what he had previously sown. You might say he taught you through her."

It took Estel a few minutes to remember to close his mouth, which had formed into an awed "O." And then he gasped and blurted out: "No wonder she—!" He stopped short, his cheeks reddening.

Elladan chortled as the boy's blush deepened further. "Pray continue."

Estel hesitated then realized that nothing he could say could possibly shock either of his jaded foster brothers. He sighed and explained, "She did something for me that she said she never did with others. She said it was, um, special because of Gilgon – I mean Elrohir. But because you – that is because she thought you were Elrohir – because you asked her to teach me, she did it for me."

"And just what did she do?" Elladan inquired curiously.

Estel was now positively crimson with embarrassment. "She, um, got on top and she – moved – rather vigorously and she was quite – noisy. She said that whenever she did it with Elrohir she would liken him to a wild stallion and – and imagine herself an Elf-rider!"

For one full minute, Elladan gazed at him, eyes widening in ever growing hilarity. And then he burst out laughing, his shoulders heaving almost violently. After a while, Estel found he could not contain his own mirth. Before long, the Great East Road rang with their contagious laughter and many a bird and beast looked upon them in patent wonder and perplexity.

oOoOoOo

"Well, _Ada_, have I diverted him enough?"

Elrond glanced at his irrepressible older son and had to smile.

They were out on the archery yard. Elrohir, with Legolas' assistance, was instructing Estel while Elrond and Elladan looked on.

It was now two weeks since Estel's adventure in Staddle. Elrohir had been nonplussed when he learned of the nature of Estel's trip with Elladan and questioned the propriety of introducing the boy to such heady delights way before his majority. Hardly had he been appeased by Elrond's assurances that Men did not forbid the early initiation of their male youth into the love-arts when he discovered Elladan's deception in regards to his identity. That had elicited an entirely different reaction.

Elrohir knew the unquenchable Miradeth would not be satisfied with the generous fee Elladan had slipped her and he promptly vowed never to visit Staddle again lest the voracious woman demand compensation of another sort for Estel's lessons. Peredhel he may be but she had enough energy to outlast any three Elves!

"I never thought you would stoop to paying for another's favors," Legolas had tartly commented.

To which Elrohir had retorted: "'Tis others who seek my favors and would willingly pay any price I named for the privilege!"

A lesser Elf would have quailed at the expression on the Mirkwood prince's face but Elrohir was not and did not and only grinned smugly at his friend. This delighted Estel no end and roused Elladan's oft thought opinion that the Wood-elf knew next to nothing about the elven heart and even less about his own.

Elrond observed his foster son keenly once more.

Estel's eyes still sought out the Elf-knight ever so often. But there was no longer a tinge of anything other than clear hero-worship and the deep affection of a younger brother. And the lad had hinted to Elladan that he would not be opposed to other trips outside the valley for purposes of furthering his education.

With a satisfied smile, Elrond looked at his older son and said: "More than enough, _gwaniuar_. More than enough."

Glossary:  
Viressë - Quenya for April  
ellyth – Elf-maids  
Ada – Papa  
gwaniuar – older twin  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
tôr neth – young brother  
Peredhel – Half-elven/Half-elf

The End

**Part 16:** Strange Fates – The One Ring has come to Rivendell. The twins and Legolas must grapple with decisions that may ultimately seal their fates. Rating: T


	65. Strange Fates 1

**Summary:** The One Ring has come to Rivendell. The twins and Legolas must grapple with decisions that may ultimately seal their fates.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the Wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's note:** Although Tolkien stated in his books that Elrond's children had to take ship with him if they were to be of Elvenkind, he also wrote: "The end of his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, is not told; they delay their choice, and remain for a while." (Letters, #153) His intentions regarding Elladan and Elrohir's ultimate fates are unknown and it is not clear how he proposed to get around the condition he set pertaining to their choices. But this indicates that there was a chance the twins did not become mortal as their sister did when they decided to linger in Middle-earth after Elrond's departure. I have taken this literary loophole and used it for my own purposes.

_**Strange Fates**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _Ringarë_ T.A. 3018  
The Hobbits had been nearly two months in the House of Elrond, and November had gone by with the last shreds of autumn, and December was passing, when the scouts began to return. Some had gone north beyond the springs of the Hoarwell into the Ettenmoors; and others had gone west, and with the help of Aragorn and the Rangers had searched the lands far down the Greyflood, as far as Tharbad, where the old North Road crossed the river by a ruined town. Many had gone east and south; and some of these had crossed the Mountains and entered Mirkwood, while others had climbed the pass at the source of the Gladden River, and had come down into Wilderland and over the Gladden Fields and so at length had reached the old home of Radagast at Rhosgobel. Radagast was not there and they had returned over the high pass that was called the Dimrill Stair. The sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, were the last to return; they had made a great journey, passing down the Silverlode into a strange country, but of their errand they would not speak to any save Elrond. (0)

Thus, none saw them when they emerged from their father's study. None witnessed the grim countenance of Elrohir as he nearly stormed down the hall, fists clenched in anger. Close behind him strode Elladan, his expression more anxious than enraged. He spoke urgently to his brother, grasping at his arm to slow him down. But the younger twin would not be dissuaded and purposefully walked on.

Legolas sat up with a start when Elrohir entered his room without preamble, almost slamming the door against the wall in his agitation. Elladan followed in his wake and just managed to grab the door before it did damage to the wall. The prince had been reclining on his bed, reading a book, but now he put it aside and rose swiftly, puzzled by the younger twin's demeanor.

"Father says you offered to accompany the Hobbit on this Quest," Elrohir said before the archer could speak. "Is this true?"

Legolas was taken aback by the Elf-knight's hard tone. "Aye, I did," he replied.

"Why, Legolas?" the twin demanded. "How could you do this without asking us first? How could you even think to go on so perilous a journey by yourself?"

Taking rare exception to Elrohir's manner, Legolas felt his ire flare up and he snapped back. "I had not realized I was required to secure your permission to do anything! And I can take care of myself, Elrohir. I am a warrior, not an Elfling in need of guardians!"

Elrohir stared at him, eyes darkening with indefinable emotion. He flushed and his mouth tightened. Without a word, he turned on his heel and would have left but for Elladan's refusal to move out of the way.

"Nay, _muindor_, do not go," Elladan softly said. "Legolas does not realize how hard it is for you to let him risk such danger and not be at his side." He glared at the prince pointedly.

Legolas paled at Elladan's words. Comprehension came to him and he swiftly repented of his sharp retort to the Elf-knight. Of course Elrohir was upset. He was deeply protective of those he cared for. He reached out to clap a hand on the warrior's shoulder.

"Forgive me, _gwador_"—sworn brother—he said regretfully. "I did not mean to speak to you that way."

When the younger twin declined to turn around or even look at him, a hurt expression flickered across the prince's face. He glanced at Elladan imploringly.

Seeing the archer's distress, the older twin murmured something to his brother. At length, Elrohir nodded and turned to face his friend. He had managed to school his features but Legolas could still glimpse a trace of the turmoil in the twilight eyes and he wondered at it. Elladan saw his curiosity and moved to blunt it.

"Why did you make the offer, Legolas?" he asked. "There are so many other Elves for _Adar_ to choose from."

Distracted by the older twin's query, Legolas turned his attention to the question. "There isn't just one reason, Elladan," he said. "Frodo is the main reason, of course. I want to help him even if 'tis just for part of the journey."

"Part of the journey?"

"I told Lord Elrond I was willing to go as far as the passes of the mountains. Mayhap a little further beyond if need be."

Elladan frowned. "You may be required to go more than just a little further beyond in this Quest. This enterprise is fraught with uncertainty at best. Would you brave Mordor itself?"

Legolas bit his lip. "I do not know," he admitted. "But I do wish to be of service to Frodo. I cannot bear the thought of that little one going into peril with scarcely any help." He glanced at Elrohir who had thus remained silent so far. "And I cannot deny that I am drawn by the chance to see more of Middle-earth."

He caught the Elf-knight's gaze and held it pleadingly. "You have seen and done so much in your lives. You have sojourned in Lothlórien, ridden in secret with the Rohirrim in the Riddermark, served your kin unrecognized in Gondor and even sailed along the distant shores of Belfalas in Dol Amroth. These places are but names to me yet you know them well, have dwelt amongst the people who call them home. I know this Quest is perilous but it calls to me even as you have been called to errantry to avenge your mother's torment." He anxiously studied the silvery pools that gazed back at him steadily. Seeing them soften just the slightest bit, he pressed on. "Should your father choose me to go on this journey, I would dearly wish to do so with your blessings."

Elrohir held his gaze, making him inexplicably uneasy. "Your explanation does not completely ring true," the younger twin said at length. At Legolas' start of surprise, he continued quietly. "Are you certain 'tis not also because you feel responsible for Gollum's escape from Mirkwood?"

Now even Elladan stared at him when the latter noted the flush that stained the archer's cheeks.

"'Twas you who guarded the creature?" the older twin asked in disbelief. At the prince's shamefaced nod, he added: "And did your father blame you for his escape?"

Legolas hesitated then shook his head. "Nay, he did not. Nor did he desire for me to bear the news to the council. 'Twas my decision." He let out a frustrated exhalation then looked ruefully at Elrohir "You know me too well. _Adar_ put me in charge of guarding Gollum and like a fool I let him escape to do his mischief."

"You did not let him do anything," Elrohir demurred firmly. "The forces that threaten our peace are far more powerful and treacherous than anything we have previously known. Please, Calenlass, do not blame yourself when your own father does not."

Legolas gave him a wan smile. "You balm my wounded pride and sore heart, Elrohir," he answered gratefully. "Yet what I said earlier was also true. I still would go with the Company and lend aid if I may. I know I am not as formidable a warrior as either of you but I would like to help in this undertaking if only for the honor of the Woodland Realm."

Elrohir regarded him a little longer then sighed in resignation. "I do not belittle your abilities, Legolas. You are a warrior without peer and I would take umbrage at anyone who would suggest otherwise." He smiled slightly at the bright gleam of pleasure in the archer's eyes. "If I was upset, 'tis because Father refused our request to join the Company as well." He drew a pensive breath. "If I could not go with you, then I did not want you to go at all."

Legolas swallowed hard, moved by this evidence of Elrohir's deep regard for him. "Why did Lord Elrond turn you down?" he asked. "Your presence on this Quest would be most valuable not only to the Ring-bearer but to Mithrandir and Aragorn as well. As I said, you have already seen and done so much. Surely your vast experience would be welcome to all."

"He turned us down precisely because of all we have seen and done," Elladan quietly explained. At Legolas' perplexed reaction, he said: "We are too much Estel and Mithrandir's equals. Even were Elrohir and I to keep our peace and submit to their every command, there would always be the feeling that we may know more or better and that might lead to dissension amongst the Company. Estel, in particular, would be hindered by this and he should not be if he is to fulfill his destiny."

He gave Legolas a look that was equal parts fondness and envy. "You, on the other hand, for all your years, are still an innocent compared even to our foster brother. You would not question his or Mithrandir's decisions, would not make them feel inadequate or unsure of their choices. And you would not unwittingly cause others to question their judgment as we might. Yet you are also their friend and would not blindly follow them into ruin but reach out and hold them back if need be."

Legolas fell silent for a space as he considered Elladan's words. He glanced at Elrohir surreptitiously and caught the raw pain in the other's eyes before he could veil them. He caught his breath at the sight and felt the hurt resound in his own heart though he did not understand why. He turned to the younger twin and took his hands in his, savoring the barely restrained power in the deceptively slender fingers.

"There is no surety that Lord Elrond will choose me," he said softly. "But if he does, know that 'tis from you that I will find the wherewithal to endure whatever comes my way. Ever have you been a source of strength and courage to me, Elf-knight. I cannot conceive of life deprived of your presence."

Elrohir visibly trembled at the heartfelt utterance. He did not speak at once, not trusting his voice to see him through, but when he finally did, he murmured, "Nor can I." He ignored Elladan's sharp glance at him and added, "I will not stand in your way, Legolas, if this is your desire."

The smile that lit up the archer's face was small comfort under the circumstances but comfort nevertheless and the younger twin managed a smile of his own. He did not let it falter until Legolas swept him into a grateful hug. Elladan saw his eyes then, the windows of his soul, and shivered at the darkness and sorrow in the pewter depths.

oOoOoOo

The deeps of the night should have found all of Rivendell asleep. But Elladan could not find the peace of mind that would allow him to drift into slumber or, failing that, find respite in his waking dreams. He was too troubled for rest, too fearful of what the future portended for him and Elrohir. Or rather what it would lead his brother to do.

Sitting up in bed, he held in his hand Nimeithel's precious letter delivered to him by Legolas upon his arrival two months ago. He had not had the chance to read it until now what with his and Elrohir's sudden journey to the Golden Wood. Upon their return, he had read and re-read it, savoring the love and succor he found in her tender message.

But even the letter could not dispel the feeling of impending loss that raced through his veins ever so often. He sighed.

For several years after the near demise of his friendship with Legolas and their subsequent reconciliation, Elrohir had seemed content enough, even happy with the way things were. Elladan was well aware of the reason behind his brother's blitheness. How could he not be when he'd learned that his desire at least was returned?

But then Legolas had backed away once more, discomposed by his strong physical attraction to his best friend and his undeniable need for his continued regard. It was as if his confession had triggered anew the fears and doubts he'd always harbored when faced with anything that invited his heart's involvement. And there was no denying that his last encounter with Elrohir had verged on that.

Despite his admission, he had shied from further intimacy with Elrohir. Had shown every sign of discomfort at the memory of their last coupling. Had even gone to the extent of avoiding any allusion to it, leading the brethren to conclude that he would rather put it behind him if he could.

It was no wonder his twin had not told the prince the truth about his feelings. With Legolas so skittish about the matter, who knew how he would react? Mindful as ever of the archer's feelings, Elrohir had quietly veiled his and retreated once more behind the walls of pretence.

Elladan understood the need for silence. Still, there were times when he wished his brother would cast prudence by the wayside and declare his love. And almost immediately after worry about the consequences of such a declaration.

Not that Elrohir would heed him. He had already resigned himself to his fate, bleak and hopeless as it was. And there lay the source of Elladan's fears.

They had been allayed for a brief while during the twins' stay in Lórien but now, faced once more with Elrohir's unremitting sorrow, Elladan could not set them aside so easily. Particularly when certain choices were now at hand and his brother's decisions could all be too easily influenced by his despair.

With a frustrated growl, he rose from his bed and, laying Nimeithel's letter on his bedside table, strode out to seek peace elsewhere. In the garden mayhap, under the balming light of his grandsire's starry gaze.

Which was where Gandalf found him an hour later. The Wizard, too, had found sleep elusive and had slipped out for a late night stroll. Discovering Elrond's older son seated on one of the stone benches around the garden's perimeter, he immediately discerned that more than sleeplessness had driven Elladan out into the chill night. He sauntered to the warrior.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he softly inquired when Elladan looked up at his approach.

The older twin smiled wanly and nodded. "And you, Mithrandir? Does the same dilemma bring you out here?"

Gandalf chuckled, a trace of weariness limning his mirth. "The dilemma is the same but not the cause. I worry about a most intrepid Hobbit."

Elladan had to grin. "A valiant little one, the young Baggins," he agreed. "I can see why Bilbo favored him amongst all his kin. They are much alike."

"As you and Elrohir are alike," Gandalf mused. "Yet your fates may yet differ." At Elladan's startled expression, he gently added: "For that is the reason for your present anxiety, is it not?"

Elladan shook his head. "How you know these things..." He gravely looked at the Istar then patted the space beside him. Gandalf sank down on the proffered spot and returned his gaze. Elladan said: "The time draws near when we must choose our path. To leave Middle-earth with Father or be as Arwen and cleave to mortal-kind."

Gandalf nodded knowingly. "And have you made your decision?" he asked with the tone of one who already knew the answer.

"I have."

The Wizard smiled approvingly. "Good. That should keep Thranduil from calling out your father on account of his daughter's honor," he remarked.

Elladan stared at him, startled. "I had not thought that he disapproved of our relationship," he said with a frown.

Gandalf smiled. "He does not. But neither can he bear to see his only daughter love in vain." He looked pointedly at the older twin. "When next you set foot in the Woodland Realm, I suggest you have a proposal ready. Thranduil will not stand for any delays once he learns of your choice!"

Elladan laughed softly. "If the shadow does not overtake us," he murmured, "I will try to appease him."

Gandalf's smile saddened. "Yet another reason holds you back from joining with Nimeithel," he commented. "You are torn between fulfilling your desire and protecting your brother."

Elladan bit his lip. "Neither of us wishes to depart Middle-earth with _Adar_ if it is too soon in the future. This is our home, the land of our birth and joys and suffering. But if we must to be of Elf-kind..." He sighed with even greater melancholy. "Nimeithel is not ready to leave either and I would not force her. She has even less reason to forsake Middle-earth for a place she only knows as legend. But if we were to be bound before I must go, we could bear the parting. Our hearts would hold us steady while we awaited our reunion in Aman. But Elrohir..."

Gandalf said nothing but looked at him encouragingly. And so he continued.

"You know of his love?"

"I have long suspected it."

"Then you also know why he might choose the Gift of Men."

"Aye, that is quite apparent."

Elladan stared into the shadows of the thick shrubbery that edged the garden where moon and starlight did not penetrate.

"Our twinship keeps him from waning," he said quietly. "I have kept his flame burning with my love and support since I first suspected his passion. But with my heart more and more in Nimeithel's keeping, I cannot lend him as much strength as before. Already our bond is less than what it once was." He looked at Gandalf sorrowfully. "He is valorous, more than any Elf that now lives I wager, but even he cannot stave off the failing of his spirit indefinitely."

"He might find peace and healing in Valinor," Gandalf said.

"Nay, he will not. He has turned inward to his own steadfast heart for strength and forbearance." Elladan swallowed hard. "Should I wed Nimeithel, 'twill be that alone that will sustain him," he said painfully. "He will live by the sheer force of the knowledge that in friendship at least he may call Legolas his. Were they to be parted for Elbereth knows how long and with no certitude of reunion, if he were to no longer feel their bond of brotherhood... that would be as exile to him. He would fade even in the Blessed Realm."

Gandalf let out a heavy sigh. He had wondered about Elrohir's endurance, had guessed at what had sustained him all these centuries in the face of unrequited love. But he had not realized how deep the younger twin's feelings ran or how great his despair had grown in recent years. Elladan's grief was understandable. Either his twin would fade or he would choose as his sister and die a mortal death.

Long had he guarded the Powers' latest decree regarding the Peredhil, unwilling to let it influence and mayhap change for the worse what had been foretold in ages past. But now that Aragorn and Arwen were promised to each other...

"There will be no need to take ship with your father if 'tis not yet your desire," he said.

Elladan started then stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

Gandalf gently explained: "Your heart's desire, your spirit's yearning will hold you to your chosen fate. Just as your sister will become of Mortal-kind by cleaving to Aragorn so may you linger in Middle-earth and still be of Elfkind by binding yourself to one of your kindred. There will be no need for the formality of the vows of espousal to seal your choice for the Powers already know your heart. All that is required is a declaration before them to sanctify it."

He paused to allow Elladan to draw much needed breath then pressed on. "They to whom you pledge your hearts and spirits will stand in your father's stead and so long as they abide in Middle-earth, you will have the youth of the Eldar. And when they depart you will perforce take ship with them to make your eternal abodes in Elvenhome."

Elladan was rendered speechless for the longest while. When he did find his tongue, it was all he could do not to grab the Wizard by his beard in his agitation.

"You knew this all these centuries!" he exclaimed. "Why did you not tell us? Arwen—!"

"Had to fulfill her destiny," Gandalf finished softly. "Think you she would have changed her mind once her heart made its choice?"

Elladan's anger dissipated. "But you feared we would force our wishes upon her," he said.

The Istar nodded. "I had to choose between the grief of one family and the destiny of an entire kingdom of Men. 'Twas not a simple thing to hold my tongue on this matter. Elrond..."

He left it at that. But Elladan understood. His father, for all his wisdom, might have set it aside in the compulsion to keep his children from treading his brother's path.

"I will take care of telling _Adar_ after you leave," he quietly offered.

Gandalf's tired features lit up in gratitude. Meanwhile, Elladan had cause to smile in elation.

"Nimeithel and I need not part!" he said happily. But just as swiftly, his joy dwindled as he recalled his twin. He shook his head in renewed sorrow. "I may still dissuade him from making our sister's choice. But if what you have told me is the means by which Elrohir may remain in these lands past Father's leaving, then 'tis of no matter. Legolas may never be ready to bind himself to anyone, much less another _ellon_. My brother will be doomed either way and we will lose him."

Gandalf pursed his lips. "I did not say that Legolas must bind to him as well," he gently reminded the other.

Elladan gaped at the Wizard. "Are you saying that... he may pledge himself... even without Legolas' knowledge?" he demanded disbelievingly.

Gandalf nodded. "'Tis the choice of his heart that will seal his fate."

Elladan blew his breath out. "That is a most difficult choice," he said. "The uncertainty..."

"Means he still may hope," the Wizard concluded. "None of us can know for certain what the future holds. Time and destiny are much too fluid. But 'tis hope that will help us persevere even in the darkest of days. Your brother is strong of heart, Elladan. Indeed, stronger than any I have yet known in all my long years. 'Tis a virtue worthy of great reward."

Elladan regarded him gravely. "And will he receive his reward?" he mused. "Do the Powers take notice of mere matters of the heart?"

Gandalf smiled. "They take notice," he answered. "For the matters of the heart have dictated the course of history far more often than any choices of conscious thought."

Glossary:  
Ringarë – Quenya for December  
muindor – brother  
Adar - Father  
ellon – male Elf

(0) Quoted from LotR: _Fellowship of the Ring_, Book 2, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South.

_To be continued_…


	66. Strange Fates 2

_**Strange Fates**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
"The one called Samwise possesses hidden strength," Elrohir commented as he and Legolas observed the Hobbits.

In the last days before the Company's departure, the Halflings had spent most of their time together though Frodo and his surprisingly knowledgeable cousin Merry also applied themselves to studying maps of the south and learning what they could of their appointed way. This morning the Hobbits were gathered in the near empty Hall of Fire, huddled before the great hearth, reminiscing about the dearly missed homely comforts of the Shire during winter.

"He does not realize it yet but he will be a great asset to your Company," the warrior added. "Indeed, they all will be, even young Took."

Legolas smiled at his friend's assessment. Elrohir had a knack for reading people's hearts and scrying the possible consequences thereof.

"What about the Dwarf?" he queried, the barest hint of belittlement in his tone.

Elrohir glanced at him a little chidingly. "Gimli is noble and stout-hearted," he said. "You must let go of some of your preconceived ideas regarding other peoples."

"You can hardly blame me for some misgivings," Legolas said. "I have not forgotten how the Battle of the Five Armies came about."

"Your father was not entirely without fault," Elrohir gently pointed out. "And he did gain much from it at the end."

Legolas scowled, misliking both criticism and allegation particularly since he could refute neither. He changed the subject.

"And Boromir?" he snipped.

"What am I, a seer?" Elrohir protested jestingly. At Legolas' humorless gaze, he sighed and said: "He is a noble man but... his loyalty to his father and Gondor may prove his undoing. He is... unlearned in the lore of the Ring. 'Tis a pity the Steward did not send his younger son."

"Why do you say that?" Legolas curiously asked.

"The younger one hearkened to Mithrandir when last he went south," Elrohir explained. "He bears no misplaced pride and seems the more accepting of others' counsel even if they gainsay his father's supposed wisdom." He shook his head. "Boromir is a good man and a valorous one. But I would exercise caution around him nonetheless."

He glanced at Legolas. The archer's brow was still furrowed. Elrohir sighed inwardly. His friend's temper had been anything but pleasant these past few days.

"I had hoped our parting would be amicable at least," he quietly commented.

Legolas was startled out of his sour mood. He looked at the Elf-knight ruefully.

"I am sorry," he murmured. "I know I have been terrible company but I cannot seem to help it. The future... I fear that... Elrohir, I must confess, I am afraid of what will happen if we fail in this quest."

"You are not alone in that fear," the darkling Elf said. "But you need not struggle with it by yourself."

The tacit offer of consolation did much to hearten the Wood-elf ere he had even accepted it.

"Thank you," he said. "And there are things I wish to tell you before I must go. It would lighten my heart, _gwador_."—sworn brother.

Elrohir nodded. "Speak freely, Calenlass. I will listen."

oOoOoOo

Some hours later, Elladan went in search of his twin, the urge to tell Elrohir about Gandalf's revelation strong in him. He practically scoured the Last Homely House until he was openly cursing in every language he knew, which was a formidable number to say the least. Only at the last did he think to look in the armory though why his brother should linger there was beyond him.

Yet there he was, tucked away in the furthermost corner of the room, eyeing the weapons hanging on the wall in that little visited spot. Elladan felt a chill snake up his spine.

It was the wall upon which were displayed the sword, shield and spear of Elros, first king of Númenor. Their father's twin, their Peredhel uncle turned mortal. Elrond had borne the weapons back to Lindon after his brother's death then taken them to Rivendell as mementos of his lost sibling.

Why would Elrohir regard them now so avidly?

"What fascination does our uncle's weapons hold for you?" he asked abruptly.

Elrohir turned his head sharply, obviously taken unawares by his twin. A disturbing sign in itself. Elladan came up to his side, unable to keep the accusing gleam out of his glare.

Elrohir met his stare head on. "I was pondering his choice," he answered evenly.

"And?"

"I envy him."

"Why?" Elladan's voice turned hard with fear.

The Elf-knight unleashed darkly glittering eyes on him. "What must it be like to be free from sorrow, Elladan? To know true peace? To find bliss in oblivion?"

"Why do you speak thusly?" Elladan demanded. "What brought on this morbid mood?"

Elrohir's eerie calm did not relent. "I spoke long with Legolas this morn," he said. "He was fearful of what failure by the Fellowship might lead to. I thought to counsel him, mayhap take some of the burden from him."

"It seems to me you took more than some of his burden," Elladan said.

"He was in need of comfort... of whatever caring I could spare him," Elrohir went on, heedless of his brother's sarcasm. "I almost told him then."

Elladan went still. "But you did not?" Elrohir shook his head. "Why not, brother? What stopped you?"

Elrohir looked him straight in the eye. He nearly reeled from the brimming anguish he saw in the pewter depths.

"He called me his dearest friend, his heart's brother, even his refuge."

Elladan stared at his twin in confusion. Why should such affectionate terms have pained him so?

"Elrohir—"

"And then he told me that..." Elrohir visibly trembled at this point. "...that he was glad I no longer... held more feelings for him than what was due a friend."

Elladan stared at him in shock. "Nay," he whispered disbelievingly. "To what end did he say this? What need was there for it?"

The twilight eyes turned black with hopelessness. "'Twas his way of restoring our friendship to what it once was. Before I... altered it with..." He broke off, unable to continue, and turned back to gaze at the weapons upon the wall.

"But why?" Elladan said harshly. "He already admitted desire for you, why this sudden reversal?"

Elrohir did not look at him. "He is leaving on a journey from which there may be no return," he said dully. "He seeks peace, Elladan, not only for his mind but also for his heart. It is as guarded as ever, mayhap even more. He does not want anything to impede him in this undertaking. Especially not memories that cause him unease."

"Valar! Is there no end to his folly!" Elladan exclaimed irately. "Were he no friend, I swear I would run him through for what he is doing to you!"

"Do not think ill of him, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—Elrohir objected, looking at him once more. "He is not to blame for the love I bear him. 'Tis not his fault that he fears what love can wreak. His heart is his to do with as he wishes and if he chooses to lock it up to keep it out of harm's way, then so be it."

"But you would protect his fragile heart," Elladan protested. "You would take hurt first before allowing any evil to befall him." He grasped his brother's shoulder. "Do not let him go on his way ignorant of the truth. Tell him now, Elrohir."

"Nay, I cannot do that."

"Why not?" Elladan burst out in frustration. "Why do you hold back? Where is the Elrohir who would strive fiercely for what he desired and would even bend others to his will to achieve it?"

The Elf-knight shook his head. "I will not have him shy from me in distress that I should want him. More so when he needs to believe that I do not. I will not have him leave on so perilous a journey burdened by what I feel for him, troubled that he cannot answer it. Nor would I care to bend him to my will. The result would not be love but merely a parody of it that would never survive the test of eternity."

The older twin's mouth tightened at this unassailable reply. Dread rose once more to choke him as he considered what his brother might possibly do in his desolation. Desperately, he recalled the hope-filled moment he'd known in Lothlórien.

He'd been walking by himself, feeling a heaviness in his heart that refused to depart. At length, he'd stopped in a small clearing where elanor and niphredil practically carpeted the ground. He paused, staring at the mingled gold and white blossoms. They reminded him even more sharply of what distressed him so deeply. It was then that he felt her presence and turned to see his grandmother regarding him from a short distance away.

She quietly approached him, her eyes sad and understanding. "Forgive me, _mell nîn_, if I have intruded on your privacy," the Lady murmured, brushing a strand of sable from her older grandson's cheek. "But Celeborn and I have seen how troubled you and Elrohir are and that it has nothing to do with the Ring that has been found."

Elladan sighed. Useless to keep anything from their grandparents. Even without Galadriel's mirror they saw deeply into the hearts of many. What had they seen in his heart? Or Elrohir's?

"You are concerned about the choice you must make but even more so about Elrohir's choice," she gently supplied.

Elladan nodded. "We sense the time is nearing when we must decide our fate."

Galadriel smiled. "And would you cleave to the Firstborn, _gwaniuar_?" she said. "Does a certain maiden of Mirkwood have that much sway upon you?"

The twin blushed. "Aye, Grandmother, she does." He bit his lip. "I greatly wish to be of Elvenkind for her sake. But Elrohir..."

"He is tempted to take the same path as Elros."

Elladan was silent for a while. Then he let out a sharp exhalation of breath. "I understand why Elros chose the doom of Lúthien!" he exclaimed. "Why father was able to let him go despite the pain of that separation." He shuddered. "We will lose Arwen for the same reason though I cannot blame her for her decision. I cannot deny her the love she has found. But for Elrohir to choose the fate of Men because of..." He clenched his teeth in frustration.

"Despair," Galadriel quietly finished for him. "He sees the ephemeral lives of Men as an escape from his pain."

Elladan nodded dully. "I have always been able to persuade him in other matters," he said with a hitch in his voice. "But this time I am not so certain."

He felt the Lady's comforting hand on his shoulder. A measure of peace washed over him. She had the same soothing touch as her daughter had, his mother.

"Do not grieve, Elladan," she counselled. "Elrohir may yet choose as you wish."

Something in her tone gave him reason to hope. "You spoke to him?" he asked.

"Celeborn and I did, last night," she acknowledged. "We did not attempt to influence him into making the choice we desire for him. That is not our right. But we did try to enlighten him as to the consequences of whatever decision he may make. Your grandsire, bless his wisdom, pointed out that in the eternity of Elvenkind there is always time to hope and the chance that his desire will be granted. But if he chooses the other fate it will be the end of his hope and of happiness even should his desire come to pass."

Elladan pondered her words. "Do you think it will come to pass?" he queried. "Have you seen something in your mirror?"

"You know very well that the mirror does not tell the future. It only suggests possibilities. But, yes, I have seen something." She paused. "I will know more if _he_ comes this way. It shall be an opportunity for us to see if he is worthy of such devotion from Elrohir."

The warrior's eyes widened. "Why would he come—?"

A finger to his lips silenced him. "I cannot say. I can only speculate," Galadriel said. "Do not speak of this to your brother. I would not have him add this worry to his burden. And there is no surety that what I have seen will indeed occur. Do you understand?"

Elladan did not press further. "I understand."

Galadriel smiled. "I believe your grandfather's words had some effect on your brother. We could feel a lightening of his spirit."

Elladan felt his hope surge. "Then I am grateful that circumstances sent us here if this means Elrohir will ponder his choice a little more prudently."

"You can help him, _gwaniaur_," Galadriel softly suggested. "No one would blame you for trying to persuade him to your way of thinking. You are his twin and most beloved of his heart save for one other."

"Anything, Grandmother." Elladan passionately said. "Please tell me, what must I do?"

"Remind him of what he will lose if he strays from the path as well as what he may yet gain should he hold to it. He will hearken to you, Elladan, if he sees his hope in your eyes."

For the first time in a long time, Elladan felt his spirit sing. The days were dark, the times uncertain. Middle-earth was at a crossroads that could take it back to greatest glory or down into blackest ruin. Yet here in a small glade in the Golden Wood, such happiness as can be found took hold and brought a glad smile not only to his lips but to his heart as well.

He hugged the Lady, revelling in the wonder and comfort that he was of her blood, one of her cherished grandchildren.

Elladan came back sharply to the present. He gazed at his brooding brother with renewed determination. Abruptly, he said: "If you choose as Arwen has, you will not only bring grief anew to _Ada_ and me but sorrow to Legolas as well."

A pair of eyebrows so like his own rose in implicit scepticism. "He will grieve for the loss of a friend but nothing more," he said dismissively. "Eventually he will heal and move on."

"Nay, in that you are mistaken, brother," Elladan countered. "In closing his heart to love, Legolas has chosen the way of loneliness. He will be alone, Elrohir. Alone for all time. All the more will he seek your company, rely on your presence. Even now he needs you though he refuses to recognize the depth of it."

Elrohir gazed at him uncertainly. At this sign of weakening, Elladan swiftly pressed on. "And if you choose the fate of our uncle, what then if you should attain your desire?" he challenged. "Would you then spend but a season with your beloved then leave him to grieve without surcease or fade for love of you? Surely you cannot wish that fate upon one so dear to your heart."

Elrohir had started at his words. Now he shuddered indecisively, torn between the blatant promise of respite from his pain and the tempting glimmer of deliverance from his despair. Elladan, ever the warrior, attacked with the most effective weapons in his arsenal.

"Confound it, Elrohir, I will not lose you as _Ada_ lost Elros!" he bellowed. "I will not be sundered from you for all eternity!" He grabbed his brother by the arms. "By the love you bear me, do not choose rashly! I implore you, do not take that road, _gwanneth_!"— younger twin!

Elrohir stared into the depths of his twin's eyes. He inwardly cringed at the grief and fear he saw in the storm-blue pools. Guilt struck him hard as he realized the extent of his brother's torment – on account of him.

"Ai, Elladan!" he cried and flung his arms around the older twin. "Forgive me for causing you such unhappiness. I would not have you suffer because of me!"

Elladan embraced him snugly. "Then choose as I would," he whispered. "Be with me always, _tôr nîn_."—my brother.

Elrohir drew back and let out a shaky breath. "I will think hard on this, _gwaniuar_," he softly said. When Elladan would have protested, he quickly forestalled him. "I will say this much. 'Twas for lack of hope that I had looked to the Doom of Men for reprieve from my pain. But you have given me new hope with your counsel and made it less of a temptation."

Elladan stared at him intently, his eyes searching with piercing discernment. Elrohir met his stare unflinchingly. Something in the silvery gaze of his brother satisfied the older twin and he found the means to smile wanly.

"Then I will continue to give you hope," he quietly said, "if in doing so I may hold you to my path and our kindred."

Elrohir managed a sad smile. "You do realize that this may all be for naught," he said quietly. "Even should I take ship with _Ada_ and you, I may yet pass into Mandos' Halls. I meant it when I said that I could not live deprived of his presence."

Elladan vehemently shook his head. "I spoke with Mithrandir about this last night," he said. "What he indicated as a possibility previously, he affirmed. We need not depart with _Ada_ if we are not ready to leave Middle-earth." He hesitated then gazed bravely at Elrohir and repeated what the Wizard had told him.

The implications of his brother's pronouncement struck Elrohir mute for a few minutes. Finally he said, "Then to remain at his side I would have to pledge myself..." He paled considerably.

Elladan continued to stare at him, apprehension coursing through him that the revelation may have undone all that he had achieved earlier. But then Elrohir looked at him and smiled. It was a heartbreakingly gentle smile and Elladan felt sudden tears sting his eyes.

"If I take your path, I will bind my heart and spirit as you would," Elrohir whispered.

Elladan forced the next words from his lips. In all fairness, he had to say them whatever the consequences they might wreak.

"Even if he knows it not?' he murmured.

Elrohir nodded. "Even then," he said. At his brother's unhappy reaction, he added: "He is worth it, Elladan."

The older twin bit his lip then drew the Elf-knight back into a tight hug. "You _will_ come to your desire, _gwanneth_," he fiercely insisted. "The Valar would not withhold love from one as valiant and deserving as you."

Elrohir pressed his face against his brother's shoulder. "I pray you are right, _tôr iaur_. I truly do."

Glossary:  
scry – to perceive the future (_archaic_)  
mell nîn – my dear  
Ada – Papa  
tôr iaur – older brother

_To be continued_…


	67. Strange Fates 3

_**Strange Fates**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
On the eve of the Company's departure, the Last Homely House lay in pensive silence. No songs enlivened the Hall of Fire, no laughter rang through the corridors. Nine valiant souls were walking out of the valley into certain peril and possible ruin. Nine who represented the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. And amongst them one who bore the fate of Arda by dint of his pluck and tender heart.

There was no place for merriment this last day before the Company of Nine walked knowingly into the gathering darkness.

For much of the afternoon, the members of the Fellowship closeted themselves with Elrond and his twin sons in the former's study, going over maps for the last time, absorbing as much counsel as they could muster. Then save for Gandalf and Legolas they left to seek what comfort they might. The Wizard continued to confer with Elrond but the twins retired to the long couch against the wall with Legolas.

Gandalf watched as the brethren and their woodland friend whiled away the last hours of the afternoon, speaking quietly amongst themselves. Elladan and Elrohir sat half sprawled on either end of the couch. Legolas lay across them, his feet propped on Elladan's knees, his head ensconced in Elrohir's lap.

It was a familiar sight to the Wizard, one that always made him smile with pleasure. For how could anyone not feel glad at such profound affection between friends?

One might have judged their idleness as a sad waste of precious time. But Gandalf knew better. The twins were stoking their friend's fortitude with their close regard. In particular, Elrohir was imparting strength to the prince with every tender word uttered and every balming caress of his hand. That was evident in the shining light in Legolas' eyes as he basked in the Elf-knight's ministrations.

Gandalf's eyes met Elladan's across the room. In that swift exchange, he comprehended what had passed between the brothers. He sighed with some relief. Mayhap Elrond would gain both his sons yet. He turned his attention back to the Imladrin lord. Elrond, too, had taken to staring at the younger twin. His expression betrayed his unawareness as yet of his sons' fateful conversation.

The elder Peredhel's eyes were sorrowful. So, he knows, Gandalf thought. He fears he will lose Elrohir as he has lost Arwen though for vastly different reasons. The Wizard sighed. It had been most painful to witness the moment when Arwen told Elrond and the twins of her choice.

They had all been seated by Celebrían's rose garden, happy to have both Arwen and Aragorn returned to them for a while. Gandalf had been with them, always a welcome part of their family gatherings no matter how intimate.

He'd thought to leave the family to their privacy when Arwen brought up the matter but Elrond had stayed him. Mayhap he already sensed what his daughter would say and sought my steadying presence, Gandalf mused. Certainly Elrond had needed it as had Elladan.

In his friend's eyes the Istar had seen the most profound anguish imaginable mingled with bitterness that his family's loss was due to his own foster son's existence. Not that he ever took it out on Aragorn. He loved the Dúnadan too much to ever harbor anger against him. Rather it had been against the demands of fate that he had vented his resentment.

His emotions had been mirrored in Elladan's reaction. It had taken the older twin some time before he could speak with Aragorn again. That had been another painful moment when he had sought his mortal kinsman and welcomed him as law-brother. His love for Aragorn had overtaken his pain but none could deny Elladan's struggle not to forsake the Ranger he'd helped raise. It was a testament to his loving heart and implacable sense of duty that he had overcome the darkness that might have sundered him from both Arwen and Aragorn even in this life.

It was Elrohir's response that had most differed and therefore proved most telling. He'd known grief, of course, and keenly felt the irony of his once-doted-upon Estel being the reason now for his dear sister's choice. But there had also been the slightest tinge of envy in his argent eyes. Envy for their happiness, for the knowledge that whatever sorrows befell them they would have their love to see them through and, failing that, the reprieve of release from suffering in mortal death.

It was then that Gandalf had realized that his long ago suspicions had come to fruition though, until his talk with Elladan, not the full extent of it. He surmised that Elrond had made his own conclusions that grief-drenched day upon beholding his younger son's reaction.

What a pity Legolas had not been around to see it, Gandalf thought. Mayhap it might have finally opened his stubborn Wood-elf's eyes and showed him what was under his very nose! But then again, the Wizard considered, knowing his mercurial nature, his fearful heart, he could just as well have bolted and that would have been fatal for the steadfast Elf-knight.

Ai, at times like this he was all too relieved that he was no love-struck denizen of Middle-earth. There were certain advantages to being what he was and more than ever he was thankful for that.

He regarded Elrond once more, noted how he gazed sadly at his younger son. The Wizard reached out and clasped the other's hand in a compassionate grip.

"How long have you known?" he asked in a low voice.

Elrond started. He looked at his friend and saw the knowledge in his eyes. He let out a weary breath.

"Since Arwen told us about..." He shook his head. "His reaction was odd to say the least. I have watched him ever since."

"Have you spoken to him of this?"

Elrond shook his head. "He is proud," he replied, with just a touch of that same pride in his voice. "He would sooner face a horde of dragons than invite pity from anyone. He knows he can come to me. But he has not and I believe 'tis because he knows of _my_ fears." His gaze softened as he continued to eye his son. "Just as his love runs deeper than the deepest seas, so does his valor scale the highest peaks. He would take on all our burdens if he could, even on top of his own."

His dark eyes glittered anew with dread and sorrow. Gandalf shifted his hand to the Elf-lord's shoulder and gently shook him.

"Have faith, Elrond," he softly counseled.

Elrond sighed. "I have already lost my beloved Arwen," he murmured. "How can I endure the loss of my gallant Elrohir as well?"

"You do not know that you have lost him," Gandalf said. "Trust him, my friend. He will do what is right for himself... and Legolas."

Elrond's gaze shifted to the woefully oblivious Sindarin prince. His lips tightened.

"I love him like one of my own," he said. "Yet I cannot help questioning if he is worth my son's faithfulness and suffering. He is so – so obtuse not to see what is offered to him. Elbereth knows how many would kill for the chance to own even a fraction of such devotion yet he—" Elrond blew out his breath in exasperation. "Elrohir's love is a priceless treasure not lightly bestowed. If only I could convince myself that he is worthy of it."

"If Elrohir deems him worthy who are we to say otherwise?" Gandalf pointed out. "And Legolas is not so much obtuse as afraid to venture his heart. Fear can blind us; make us commit all manner of foolishness or wrongdoing. Legolas knows nothing of lovers' hearts; you can scarcely expect him to perceive Elrohir's. Your son understands this. 'Tis why he endures, why he does not press him." He repeated his advice. "Trust him, Elrond. When has he, when have either of your sons ever failed you?"

Elrond hesitated then looked at the Wizard with the faintest wisp of hope.

"Never."

oOoOoOo

Despite his own words of counsel to Elrond, Gandalf could not desist from going to the subject of their discussion himself. Not when the object of said subject's love would be travelling with him for the Valar only knew how long. If he could only give ease to the younger twin, he would feel so much better on the morrow. One less burdened heart was a gift in these dark times. Which was why the Wizard found himself walking down the corridor of the residential wing of the house, seeking the Elf-knight.

He saw him near the porch leading to the gardens, conversing with the Mirkwood prince. He waited, silently observing them. The dark head was bent close to the golden, grey eyes shared secrets with blue. At length, Legolas chuckled softly and, after a fond smile at the twin, walked away.

All that time, Elrohir had guarded his expression, displayed naught but the tender regard of a friend and sworn brother. But no sooner had Legolas turned away and no longer saw his face than his demeanor changed. Nothing blatantly overt. Just a darkening of the twilight eyes, the merest quiver of the sinuous mouth, the resigned droop of the proud shoulders. Gandalf felt his heart wrench at that doleful sight.

He remained still as Elrohir turned and began to walk toward him, head slightly bowed. The warrior jerked his head up when he realized an impediment stood in his way.

"A moment of your time, Elrohir," Gandalf requested, a gesture indicating the gardens.

Elrohir smiled and nodded. "Always, Mithrandir."

They strolled amidst the frost covered trees and bushes, unmindful of the crisp wintry air though Gandalf knew full well that, given prolonged exposure to the bone-chilling cold, even he would start to feel its bite.

"Are you prepared for this venture?" Elrohir quietly asked.

"As prepared as any can be for such an uncertain road," Gandalf replied. "And you?"

Elrohir looked at him, puzzled. "I am not leaving on this quest."

"But Legolas is. Are you prepared to part from him?"

Elrohir stopped; considered the Wizard quizzically. "I am loath to let him go on so perilous a journey," he said at last.

"And I know full well why you are loath to let him go," Gandalf murmured. "You would rather sacrifice your life than risk his."

"He is my dearest friend," Elrohir pointed out. "I could hardly be gladdened that he will be part of such a perilous undertaking."

"Yet you do not plead with Aragorn to stay though he is your well-loved foster brother," Gandalf gently reminded him.

"This is Estel's destiny," Elrohir countered. "I cannot stand in his way."

"And how do you know that it is not Legolas' destiny as well to take this road? Nay, son of Elrond, 'tis not reason that moves you but your heart."

Elrohir gazed somberly at the Wizard, wondering what his friend knew, struggling to discern what he could confide.

"It seems you have read mine then," he commented at length.

"I have been observing you these many years," Gandalf said kindly. "Even before Elladan spoke to me on the matter, I suspected as much."

Elrohir nodded then sighed. "What my heart desires is of no significance in this struggle," he said. "As you say, 'tis his destiny and none should hinder it. Yet I cannot stop myself from wanting to keep him safe from the evils without. He is not as I am, Mithrandir. I have seen enough wickedness to render me jaded by it."

"Nay, Elf-knight, that is not so," Gandalf reproved gently. "Your noble heart would never allow it. Always will you seek evil's ruin for it is not in you to let it flourish unchecked."

Elrohir snorted mildly. "You give me too much credit," he retorted though without ire. "Yet 'tis true that I have faced evil many a time and lived to tell my tale of it. But Legolas has not. Not true evil. I fear for him. I do not want his pure heart tainted or shattered by whatever lies ahead."

"It will not be tainted or shattered," Gandalf reassured him. "Not if he has your love to shield him and hold him steady. He may not recognize your regard as such but he knows it as his. It will sustain him even in the darkest hours, this knowledge that he is cherished by one whose affection he treasures more than any other's. Even his own kin."

Elrohir peered at the Wizard in surprise. "You exaggerate, Mithrandir," he protested.

"Nay, I speak the truth. And Legolas will come to realize this as well though he is intractable enough to deny it when he does!" This last was said with a hint of the same exasperation Elrond had displayed earlier.

Elrohir could not help chuckling at the Wizard's show of pique. "Aye, Nimeithel has called him mule-headed on occasion," he said, recalling the Elf-princess' not always complimentary remarks regarding her brother.

"An apt description I must say," Gandalf agreed.

He smiled when he espied a glimmer of pleasure in Elrohir's eyes. That did Gandalf a world of good, knowing he had given some cheer and a measure of hope to the dauntless Elf-rider.

They walked on in silence for a few moments. Then Elrohir glanced at the Wizard and said: "May I ask a favor of you?"

"Anything in my power."

"I know 'tis Frodo's well-being and safety that will occupy your mind in this quest," the Elf-knight said. "But may I be so bold as to ask you to guide and protect Legolas as well? Until such time that I may do so again."

Gandalf nodded in understanding. "As to that, it may be sooner than you expect," he remarked. He did not elucidate any further despite the twin's puzzled reaction. Instead he said: "Take heart, Elrohir. I will do what I may for all of the Fellowship but, for your sake, I will take our Mirkwood prince under my wing whenever I can. That is, if he will allow such coddling in the first place," he added with a twinkle in his wizened eyes.

Elrohir had to grin at the Istar's succinct summary of the Elf-prince's character. They heard the dinner bell sound and hearkened to its summons. Turning their conversation to other matters, they walked back to the house together.

oOoOoOo

_Ringarë_ 25 T.A. 3018  
Legolas stepped into the Hall of Fire where farewells would be made. It was nearing dusk and the Company would soon depart under cover of darkness. Of the Fellowship, he was the most lightly clad for the cold troubled him little.

His eyes fell at once upon the twins who flanked their father and sister. Arwen's countenance betrayed nothing of the fear that she most likely bore for Aragorn. But that was not surprising. In her long years of sojourning in the Golden Wood, she had learned to school her demeanor. No longer did she let her tart tongue rule her or give her former impetuosity free rein. She was the Lady of Imladris in her mother's stead and she acted accordingly though, on occasion, the Arwen of old still peeked out, particularly with those close to her.

After saying goodbye to the others who waited – especially Glorfindel, Erestor, Almariel and Lindir – Legolas quietly took leave of Arwen and her father, wondering somewhat uneasily at the rather stern gaze Elrond dealt him. But his unease was soon dispelled by Elrohir's warm smile.

The younger twin took him by the arm and led him out of the hall. "Come," he said. "I would have us speak our last in private."

"But Aragorn—"

"We have already said our farewells to him," Elladan said.

Outside, they spoke for a while, the twins continuing to buttress their Mirkwood friend's resolve. They knew full well what it felt like to travel far from family and home into strange lands on journeys fraught with peril and the likelihood of tragedy never far away. For all his eagerness, Legolas could not help harboring the doubts and worries that would strike even the most seasoned of journeymen when faced with uncertainty of life and limb.

At length, they saw the others begin to come out of the hall, Boromir and Gimli first, followed by the four Hobbits and, lastly, Aragorn. Gandalf remained behind, still deep in talk with Elrond. The brethren made to follow them when Legolas tugged at Elrohir's hand, staying him. The younger twin nodded at his brother and Elladan walked on. Elrohir turned to face the archer.

"What is it?" he queried.

Legolas hesitated. When he spoke, he sounded a bit abashed.

"What I said to you," he haltingly said. "About being glad that – that..."

"That I am as your friend once more," Elrohir quietly supplied.

"Aye, that. Elrohir, I did not mean to imply that I was – shamed by what passed between us." At Elrohir's start of surprise, Legolas sighed. "You have kept it to yourself but I know you were hurt by my words. I am sorry I did not choose them more wisely."

Elrohir fell silent for a spell, slightly taken aback that Legolas had discerned his pain and torn between relief and frustration that he had not comprehended the reason for it.

"I will not deny that I was troubled by what you said," he finally replied, daring to admit that much. "But I understand why you needed to tell me of your feelings about this matter. There is no need to apologize for speaking the truth."

Legolas peered at his friend, aware of undercurrents in his demeanor yet unable to discern their significance. But there was no time to dig deeper; he would have to wait until they met again. If they ever did.

"You know I esteem you above all else," Legolas said, rendered anxious by the Elf-knight's reticence with him.

The twilight eyes glittered with unfathomable emotion. "You have assured me of this many times, Calenlass," the warrior said.

"But you do believe me?" Legolas insistently prodded. "Please, Elrohir, tell me that you do."

Elrohir looked at him searchingly. When Legolas did not flinch under his argent gaze, he softly replied, "Aye, _malthernil_, I believe you." He glanced up as Elrond and Gandalf at last came out of the Hall of Fire. "Let us go."

"Elrohir—" Legolas held back, discomfited by an odd sense of things still left unresolved.

"I believe you," Elrohir gently repeated. "And deem you closest to my heart of all I hold dear. Always trust in that, Legolas."

The archer managed a smile at the assurance. He nodded and let his friend lead him out to the courtyard where Elladan waited with the other companions and the closest members of the household. Elrond and Gandalf soon joined the small gathering.

After Elrond gave his final counsel and farewells to the Company, Legolas returned to the twins to bid them a last goodbye.

"May the Valar protect you on this journey, Legolas," Elladan said. "And do keep Estel out of trouble for us."

Legolas laughed softly as the older twin warmly hugged him. He turned to the younger twin.

Elrohir murmured: "Be safe, Calenlass _nîn_. You will always be in our thoughts and prayers."

"As you will be in mine," Legolas fervently replied.

Suddenly, he realized just how much he would miss his friends. For this would be the first time he would be journeying far and into unknown danger without them. In particular, he would miss Elrohir and his never failing regard. He caught the Elf-knight to himself and held him tightly. An embrace as snug and tender was his answer and he was heartened by it.

At last, he started to walk away to rejoin the Company. But after a few steps he looked back at them uncertainly. Elladan grinned encouragingly and Elrohir, with an understanding smile, softly said, "Go."

Legolas beamed at them then turned away and walked off resolutely to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

Glossary:  
Ringarë – Quenya for December  
malthernil – golden prince  
Calenlass nîn - my Greenleaf

The End

**Part 17:** In the Shadows – After the Battle of the Hornburg, Legolas is reunited with the twins. A chance remark leads Gimli to conclude that appearances can be deceiving. Rating: T


	68. In the Shadows

**Summary:** After the Battle of the Hornburg, Legolas is reunited with the twins. A chance remark leads Gimli to conclude that appearances can be deceiving.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the Wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** I have always thought Legolas' comment to Gimli and Merry regarding the twins in _The Passing of the Grey Company_ a bit odd. I couldn't resist coming up with an explanation for it.

_**In the Shadows**_  
_by Eressë_

Rohan, _Gwaeron_ T.A. 3019  
"And have you marked the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir? Less sombre is their gear than the others', and they are fair and gallant as Elvenlords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell." (0)

Gimli glanced up at Legolas bemusedly. Now that is an odd remark, he thought. You'd think neither the Hobbit nor I had spent two months in Rivendell and ever laid eyes on Elrond's twin sons.

The brothers had come with a company of Rangers of the North, meeting up with Rohan's King Theoden and his riders near the Fords of Isen. They had given a message of guidance to Aragorn, their foster brother, from their father, the Lord of Rivendell. Thence, both companies had journeyed to the Fortress of the Hornburg in Helm's Deep where Theoden's forces had battled Saruman's army just three nights prior. Here they sought to take counsel and snatch what rest they could for the remainder of the night.

The Dwarf and the Elf-prince had taken it upon themselves to rouse the Hobbit, Meriadoc Brandybuck, from his slumber and, in the ensuing conversation, they had discussed the arrival of Aragorn's kin in the Riddermark. It was then that Legolas made his perplexing utterance.

Gimli thought to voice his puzzlement but the irrepressible Merry had asked yet another question and their talk had turned to other concerns. Nonetheless, it niggled at the periphery of the Dwarf's consciousness and continued to do so as they rode out later in the day with Aragorn and the Dúnedain to seek the Paths of the Dead, a journey deemed quixotic at best by some, and mad at worst by others. It waxed greater when he observed one of the twins looking in Legolas' direction with a gleam in his eyes that was quite impossible to define.

_Or was it?_

Gimli tried to remember which twin was which. They were very alike, quite difficult to tell apart at first glance but not impossible after a more thorough perusal. Raven hair of an unusual blue-black sheen. Grey eyes verging on silver. Ah, yes, that would be the younger twin, Elrohir.

The one he had seen with Legolas in the waning hours of the previous night. The two Elves had spoken together before retiring for a few precious hours of sleep.

Gimli had woken up momentarily during those hours, unsettled by disturbing dreams. He had drowsily looked about and espied the Elves on their pallets amongst the Rangers. But the twin called Elrohir had not been asleep. Instead, he had been soothing Legolas who seemed to have been troubled by his dreams as well.

Gimli had woozily watched as the Elf-warrior curled a protective arm around the archer. It had calmed Legolas enough to allow him to fall asleep once more. Elrohir, however, had remained awake. It seemed to the Dwarf, as he was drawn back into the deeps of slumber, that the twin was guarding the Elven prince's repose.

A piece of the puzzle in Gimli's mind fell into place.

He had long discerned the close friendship between the Mirkwood prince and the sons of Elrond. That had been readily apparent to all during the Fellowship's stay in Rivendell and reinforced by the archer's warm greeting to them upon their arrival. But the Dwarf noticed a difference in the degree and nature of Legolas' closeness to each brother.

With Elladan, the older twin, it was true comradeship, pure and simple. Their closeness was such that they were almost as brothers to each other. But with Elrohir…

Now there was something interesting here. Gimli was fairly certain more than friendship existed between his friend and the younger twin. How else to explain the odd feeling he'd had that, in remarking upon the brethren's comeliness, Legolas had actually been referring to only one of them?

Gimli was no parochial Dwarf concerned only with his kindred's doings. He was as curious about the world without as the proverbial cat. In his extensive readings, he had come across the Elves' duality of nature and had eventually seen evidence of it in Rivendell and Lothlórien. While he'd been naturally disconcerted at first, he had come to accept the fact as just another facet of the mysteries surrounding the Firstborn.

He wondered if his Elf-friend had experienced something of this duality. With Elrohir perhaps?

He cleared his throat and gruffly addressed the archer's back. "Just how long have you known the sons of Elrond, Legolas?"

The prince glanced back at him, somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. "We met when I was barely past my majority," he answered.

"That long," mused the Dwarf. "And I suppose you have been friends ever since."

"Indeed. Why do you ask?"

A grin threatened to soften Gimli's countenance. "I was struck by a remark you made before we set out," he replied. "I find it interesting that you needed to impress their comeliness upon the Hobbit and me."

Legolas was startled. "Is there something wrong with appreciating the appearance of one's friends?" he queried.

"Nay, but you spoke as if we had never seen them before," Gimli explained. "Yet neither Merry nor I could have failed to meet them in Rivendell. And in truth, I received the distinct impression that your regard was specifically for the one called Elrohir."

He had the satisfaction of seeing the tips of the Elf's leaf-shaped ears turn faintly rosy.

"What made you think that, Master Dwarf?" Legolas retorted.

"I saw you together last night," Gimli smugly informed him. Before Legolas could respond, he added: "Tell me, Elf, just how well do you _know_ Elrond's younger son?"

"I told you, we met some three millennia ago," the archer answered somewhat stiffly.

"Nay, I did not ask for the length of your acquaintance," the Dwarf said with a touch of archness. "Let me rephrase that. How _close_ are you to Elrohir Peredhel?"

This time, the rosy stain travelled to the Elven prince's cheeks. Gimli just barely managed to snuff a laugh into his beard. His mirth came out a snicker instead, which only served to further discomfit the Elf.

"He is dearer to me than my own brothers," Legolas countered evasively. "Just how close do you expect good friends to be?"

"Not as close as you and the Elf-lord seem to be!" Gimli shot back in triumph. "Come now, Legolas, out with it. You are more than friends, aren't you?"

Legolas sighed resignedly and looked back at his Dwarf companion. His cheeks were now a nice shade of red much to Gimli's glee.

"There was a time when, aye, we were closer than friends," Legolas admitted. "But 'tis over and done with."

"It does not look that way to me," Gimli observed. "He is remarkably protective of you."

"He has always been protective of me." Hearing Gimli's skeptical snort, he shook his head and said: "What passed between us is no longer. We are friends and war-brothers, nothing more."

"If you say so," Gimli said in a patently unconvinced tone. And then he muttered something so inaudible that Legolas would not have heard it had he not been an Elf. "In a pig's eye!"

The archer chose to keep his silence. There was no telling what the Dwarf might think of saying next. He was not about to encourage him to start another debate on the matter.

But as he looked forward once more, he saw Elrohir turn his head and glance back at them. The twin rode alongside Aragorn and the latter's kinsman, Halbarad. Well ahead of his older brother who was slightly behind Legolas and Gimli. One would have thought him oblivious of the Elven prince. Except that ever so often, he would look back at Legolas, as if ascertaining the archer's well-being.

Legolas heard a smothered chortle behind him. Shaking his head, he stoically bore his friend's amusement.

Thankfully, Gimli did not badger him on the subject for the rest of the journey to Edoras. There they stayed the night before setting out once more at dawn the following day. He had all but forgotten about the discussion by then.

As they rode toward the Dwimorberg, however, he noticed Elrohir glancing at him now and then. The twin's apparent concern for him brought back to mind his talk with Gimli the day before. His thoughts flew to their last night at the Hornburg when Gimli had seen him speaking with the younger twin.

He had been leaning against a wall of the great keep, hidden by the shadows, watching Aragorn, Elladan and Halbarad speak with King Theoden. A hand on his shoulder drew his attention to its owner. It was Elrohir.

"How fare you, _mellon nîn_?"—my friend—the Elvenlord quietly inquired.

"Well enough," Legolas replied with a slight grimace. "Though I could do with a little less gore and a little more merriment."

Elrohir regarded him somberly. "You are troubled by the deaths of Theoden's folk. By their mortality."

The prince started then sighed. "You know me too well," he murmured.

Elrohir shook his head. "Most Elves feel disturbed by the Gift of the One to Men. 'Tis natural for you to be ill at ease when you witness what it means to be mortal."

"True," Legolas conceded. "I had taken them for granted. This – this horrendous slaughter has opened my eyes to their valor and worth. To know that each year of life brings one only closer to its end and yet to be able to accomplish so much in so short a time... 'Tis a remarkable race."

His eyes wandered back to the four men. Elrohir fell silent for a space. At length, he softly remarked: "Estel has risen in your regard."

Legolas glanced at him then nodded. "Aye, he has," he admitted. "'Tis difficult to believe him the child who used to follow you everywhere in Imladris. He has grown in wisdom and stature, Elrohir. He will make a great king when he comes into his inheritance. Mayhap he will be Gondor's greatest king."

"Mayhap," Elrohir agreed. After a moment, he cocked his head at the prince and said: "You are still troubled, Calenlass. Would it ease you to tell me what disturbs your peace?"

With a deep sigh, Legolas nodded. "You always know what I need, _gwador_"—sworn brother—he responded gratefully.

The Elf-warrior smiled slightly. "Not always, but I do my best," he replied.

Legolas poured out his heart to his friend. He recounted the evils they had thus far encountered: from the Balrog in Moria to Boromir's death and Merry and Pippin's abduction by the Orcs at Amon Hen to the desperate Battle of the Hornburg where he had seen so many Men fall. He had not feared for himself as much as for his companions and the fate of the Quest. And for the first time, he'd fully confronted and understood Man's mortality and the frailty of this Middle-earth he loved so much.

When he was done, he realized he felt much lighter. In unburdening his heart to Elrohir, he had thrown off the fetters of anxiety that threatened to render him less than able to face the coming storm.

"_Hannon le_, Elrohir"—Thank you—he murmured. "Ever have you been a refuge to me."

Elrohir smiled again. A pensive smile at best. Legolas wondered at his friend's melancholy but the Elf-rider forestalled any questions with his response. "For as long as you need me, _ernilen_"—my prince—he said. "But come, let us tarry not in this gloom but take what rest we can. The night is all but gone. We will need all our strength in the coming days."

Legolas frowned. "What do you foresee?"

Elrohir nodded in Aragorn's direction. "Methinks Estel will follow my father's counsel," he said.

"The Paths of the Dead?"

"Aye."

"Elves do not fear the Dead."

"But Men do, even the valiant Dúnedain. And what lies beyond is to be feared even more for we will be tested beyond our endurance, Calenlass."

"Then let us join the others and do as you suggest," Legolas conceded. "Let us find what rest we may."

They made their way to the small hall within the keep where the Rangers had gathered. Lying down on his pallet, Legolas wondered at the sense of security he felt with Elrohir at his side. When Elladan joined them, the feeling did not necessarily grow. It was the younger twin who radiated such warmth and encouragement as to strengthen his resolve.

He fell into fitful slumber only to awaken little more than an hour later, jolted out of his repose by a dream. It had been heart-rending and terrifying for he had dreamt that his friends were falling into darkness and he could only stand by and watch helplessly.

Hardly had he made a distressed moan when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and fingers gently stroking his hair.

"Hush, 'tis only a dream," he heard Elrohir whisper soothingly.

He turned his head and stared confusedly at the Elf-lord, still trembling from the shock of his nightmare. Without hesitation, Elrohir curled a protective arm around him. The sensation of power and tenderness enclosing him made him relax at once. There was no cause to be afraid. His refuge was beside him.

"_Le iaun nîn_," he mumbled as sleep reclaimed him. 'You are my sanctuary.' The last thing he remembered was the argent gleam of Elrohir's watchful eyes.

"Are you awake, Elf!" Gimli's bellowed inquiry and none-too-gentle poke in the small of his back brought him rudely back to the present.

"I am awake," he replied indignantly. "There is no need to be rough."

The Dwarf snorted. "I was just making certain," he muttered. "I do not care to be borne off by a runaway horse while you dream the day away."

"I was not dreaming," Legolas stated huffily. "I was merely thinking."

Gimli regarded him inquisitively. Then a smile edged with mischief appeared on his face. "Thinking of Elf-knights, I suppose?" he teased.

The Elven prince started visibly. He turned his head to stare at the Dwarf. "I beg your pardon?"

"That is the meaning of his name, isn't it?" Gimli snickered. "Or is it star-rider?"

Legolas' lips tightened. "Both," he briefly replied.

When he failed to rebut Gimli's allegation, the Dwarf grinned wickedly.

"_In a pig's eye!_" he said more loudly drawing a puzzled Elladan's attention. The older twin wondered what could have caused the archer's ears to turn that shade of bright pink and why the Dwarf was chuckling so heartily considering the dark purpose of their journey.

Conscious of Elladan's curious glances, Legolas growlingly muttered, "You are hopeless, Gimli."

Resolutely staring ahead, he found himself pondering the Dwarf's insinuations. Gimli is mistaken about us, he thought. What had occurred between Elrohir and him was past and done with. But the love between friends that they shared remained and would always be there.

Up ahead lay the Dimholt and just beyond the Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Gate of the Dead. Legolas shivered. He did not fear the Dead. Indeed, he was the only one in the company who did not feel some dread at entering the Dark Door. But not even he, a woodland Elf, could help flinching at the prospect of passing through the awful gloom of the forest at the mountain's foot.

Legolas felt his blood run cold as he watched the others before him slowly disappear into the dark beneath the black trees. He gazed at Elrohir as the Elf-lord urged his mount onwards into the shadows. At the very last, the twin turned his head and looked back at him. Their eyes met.

Elrohir, perceiving the archer's uncharacteristic dislike of the forest, smiled encouragingly, his twilight eyes gleaming with warmth and affection. And then he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. But the fortitude lent by his silvery gaze remained with the Elven prince and enabled him to follow, his composure restored.

He is remarkably protective of you, Gimli had remarked suggestively.

He has always been protective of me, the golden-haired Elf had declared in return. And, Elbereth grant it, he always will be, Legolas silently reassured himself, finding great comfort in the thought.

Glossary:  
Gwaeron - Sindarin for March  
Dimholt – the dark wood beneath the Dwimorberg

(0) Passage quoted from LotR: _Return of the King_, Book 5, Chapter 2: The Passing of the Grey Company.

The End

**Part 18:** On the Edge of Forever – The moment has come for Elrond's sons to make their choice either to follow their father's path or partake of the Gift of Men. Rating: T


	69. On the Edge of Forever 1

**Summary:** The moment has come for Elrond's sons to make their choice either to follow their father's path or partake of the Gift of Men.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the Wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**On the Edge of Forever**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Minas Tirith, Midsummer's Day T.A. 3019  
The king and queen were now properly wedded, feted and, presumably, despite the early hour, bedded. Aragorn had been, to put it politely, all too eager to end his part in the wedding feast and bear his bride away to the fastness of their quarters. He was fortunate his Elven brothers had not chosen that moment to display their mischievous streak of long ago. The most they had done was delay the couple with all manner of ridiculous speeches and drawn out toasts until the king had looked fit to be tied.

Only then had they relented and allowed their foster brother to finally seek relief. Which he did with almost indecent haste, his and Arwen's departure accompanied by the gentle laughter of the fair folk of Rivendell and the Golden Wood which in turn amazed the people of Gondor. It seemed there was more to their new king than they'd ever imagined if such elegant creatures as Elves could treat him so familiarly.

Now it was late afternoon. Even with the royal couple finally ensconced in their apartments, folk still lingered in the Citadel, particularly by the green lawn on the prow-shaped battlement, which rose seven levels above the lowermost roads of the City of the Kings. It had been a glorious day, the promise of peace and prosperity in the very air and the people of the Southern Kingdom in the almost forgotten mood for celebration.

But even as those privileged to remain in the vicinity of the White Tower voiced their joy in song and merry talk, their eyes were drawn again and yet again to the far end of the battlement. Drawn to the white-clad figure that stood as still as a young beech, its fair countenance turned to the vista of the Pelennor and fallen Osgiliath in the distance.

Elrohir, Prince of Imladris, son of Elrond of Rivendell, Elvenlord, foster brother to Elessar, warrior Elf, one of the legendary Peredhil – he was known by these titles and many more. When last had such singular comeliness and veiled power graced Minas Tirith as now when the king's Elven kith and kin resided within the city walls? But the twin brethren of the hidden vale stood out for reasons other than their elven luminosity.

They were different, these sons of Elrond. They were as beauteous as Elves yet there was an earthy quality to that beauty that made it seem that they may yet be within reach of mere mortals. But after all, did not their king win their sister's heart and hand? Elladan and Elrohir were also formidable in form and wisdom; their more solid yet graceful frames lending them a sensuality not readily apparent in full-blooded Elves, their youthful, compelling eyes brimming disconcertingly with age-old knowledge.

Was it any wonder that many a woman turned their eyes to the stately Elf-lord with more than mere admiration? Who could blame the men, even the most wizened and knowing, for staring at him in curiosity and awe?

He was still clothed in the raiment worn for his sister's nuptials. The snowy garb contrasted with his midnight locks, the _mithril_ circlet upon his brow marking him as one of royal lineage even if his father had declined the High-kingship over the Noldor of Middle-earth. In the slowly dimming rays of the summer sun, he glowed with such unearthly light it quite took the breath of any who beheld him

But Elrohir was oblivious of the attention. His thoughts did not center on the beatific present but on the just concluded past and the volatile future.

Was it only days ago that they had faced near annihilation on the slag hills before the Black Gate? Bait to keep the Dark Lord's eye fixed upon the remnants of Gondor's waning might, away from the two indomitable souls who had scrabbled and struggled through the arid, festering plains of Gorgoroth.

Brutal, soul-rending, ultimately hopeless had been that last battle before the Morannon. He could still remember the fierce cries and agonized screams, the harsh clang of metal against metal, the fear-etched faces of young Men facing sure and torturous death. He could still smell the grime and gore and the acrid stench of a land long forsaken to wickedness. And the sight of those he held dear battling not only for their very lives but for the life of Middle-earth itself.

When the end seemed at hand, when he saw that all their valor would not avail them, he had applied himself to a last task. To guard the lives of these dear ones, to keep them alive for as long as he could even if he should fall in their stead.

It would all have been an exercise in futility had the aim been to defeat Sauron's legions by force alone. Only the desperate hope that two worn-out Halflings would persevere and rid Middle-earth of the One Ring once and for all had held them steady in the face of certain ruin.

But just when that hope seemed to fail them, Frodo and Sam, against unimaginable odds, had reached their goal and two little Hobbits proved their mettle and secured their places in legend. Middle-earth had emerged from the encroaching darkness into the clean, clear brilliance of a new day.

He glanced down at his formal clothing, brushed his fingers over his ceremonial _sigil_, his dagger. For so long had he donned hardy mail and soldierly mantles, girded his deadly sword, borne his lethal knife, bow and quiver. It would feel strange to go for long periods on end without need for such martial accoutrements.

Not that he believed that he would never don armor or wield weapons again. The peace they had achieved was by no means inviolable. Sauron was no longer but the evils he had brought forth on the heels of those of his master, Morgoth, still existed in the deeps and plains and peaks of Arda. Vengeful Orcs, hostile realms, disgruntled allies – Aragorn had his work cut out for him. There would be true peace at last – Elrohir did not doubt his mortal brother's strength and abilities – but they would have to labor long and hard to secure it.

At least, there was no more of the pervading sense of doom from broken Mordor that bent men's wills and gouged out their courage ere battle had even been engaged. From hereon, whatever struggles took place, be they on the fields of battle or in the halls of negotiation, all would be on near equal footing. No longer would there be full-fledged sorcery or subtle enchantment to aid one side or the other.

Not even for the Men of the West. They would not have the aid of the Elves any longer. The time of the Firstborn was past. Many would soon depart these hither shores to seek the Undying Lands. His father would be amongst them as would many of the household of Rivendell. The Lady of Lórien, the White Rider, doubtless a goodly number of Galadhrim.

As for himself, he did not know. He did not wish to forsake Middle-earth just yet. Both land and love hearkened to him, begged him not to go. But to stay, he would have to make a sacrifice the repercussions of which were enough to boggle anyone's mind.

To bind himself for eternity to one who did not even know it... might not ever return it... and, worse, turn to another...

He had thought to tell him at last in Rohan but an unforeseen circumstance had made him hold his tongue. Strangely, it had also given him hope bitter though the discovery had been. But he would have to bide his time before making any move. Again.

Elrohir shivered inwardly. Could he do it? Or might the peace of a mortal end be preferable to this – this tormented waiting.

He turned his head as a hand lightly grasped his shoulder. He looked into the keen gaze of his grandsire. Celeborn, Lord of the once golden wood, now master of East Lórien, stood behind him.

More eyes turned to that now radiance-filled corner of the battlement. It was a marvel to see the silver-haired Elf beside his sable-tressed grandson. Truly, Elessar's marriage to the Lady of Rivendell had brought about wonders such as the folk of the city had not had the fortune to witness in ages.

"Your father desires to speak with you and Elladan," Celeborn quietly said. "Your brother is already with him."

Elrohir nodded but made no motion to leave. Celeborn regarded him gravely and silently. At length, the Elf-knight looked at him once more and said: "I was pondering what would become of me."

Celeborn peered at him, unable to completely veil his concern. "And what did you discern, Elrohir?" he queried.

The twin sighed. "I do not wish to leave Middle-earth," he said. "Yet I fear I will know more sorrow if I stay." He heaved a pensive breath. "Though it will be no different were I to take ship with _Adar_. I see no light to look forward to."

A thrill of apprehension smote Celeborn as he studied his grandson. Elrohir's uncertainty and desolation was so at odds with the hope and anticipation that pervaded the city.

"Do you still recall what I told you in Lórien?" he gently asked.

"Aye, I recall it," Elrohir replied. "Your counsel heartened me greatly."

"My counsel has not changed, _gwanneth_. I still say the same to you. Time is on your side as it never was with your mortal kin. Do not despair now when a new age is upon us and with it mayhap renewed hope."

He stayed by the Elf-knight's side, ready to succor him if need be. He would not allow dark thoughts to take Elrohir and have the victory at the last.

"Grandfather? You came to know him in Lórien," Elrohir murmured. "What do you think of him? Am I... am I a fool to love him so?"

Celeborn gazed into the distance a space before answering. "Galadriel and I spoke with him before the Company departed and had the chance to observe him as well," he said at last. He looked at his younger grandson, a small smile hovering on his lips. "Nay, _gwanneth_, you are no fool to love him. For all his flaws, he is a pure-heart, a loving soul, worthy of you and your devotion. Yet how I wish I could say otherwise that I may help you rid yourself of this passion for him."

Elrohir bit his lip. "It would not make a difference were he worthy or not," he whispered. "Only my choices would be affected but not my heart."

Celeborn sighed and cupped his grandson's cheek momentarily. "Come, do not keep your father waiting."

Elrohir silently followed his grandsire back to the White Tower.

They had gathered in Elrond's chamber in the residential pavilion of the tower – Elrond himself and Galadriel, Gandalf, Elladan and Legolas. Once Celeborn entered with Elrohir, the family circle was complete, with Gandalf and Legolas counted as kin through friendship if not by blood.

Arwen was not present. Her fate was now sundered from theirs.

Elrond beckoned to his sons and they came to him where he sat between Galadriel and Celeborn upon a long couch by the hearth. They each laid a hand in their father's warm grip and looked at him somberly.

"I have lost another who is beloved to me and with no hope of ever finding her again," Elrond quietly said. "Yet in her joy I have found a measure of peace and courage." He tightened his grip on the brethren's hands. "I know not if that courage will last the night but while I still own it, I would face another grief if that is my fate. I would know your choice this day, my sons. Now, while I can still endure what you may decide."

They stared at him in surprise, near identical eyes gleaming in the hush light of the chamber, one pair glinting with blue flame, the other glittering with argent fire. Then Elladan withdrew his hand, took Elrond's between his palms and knelt before his sire.

"You know my heart, _Ada_"—Papa—he sweetly said. "It belongs to one of our kindred and I would join myself to her forevermore. I wish to stay on in Middle-earth until she is ready for the journey to Aman but I say to you this day, I will cleave to Elvenkind."

Elrond smiled broadly, happiness glowing in his dark grey eyes at his older son's declaration. He could feel his law-parents' relief and joy as well as they beamed at Elladan. But his felicity faded somewhat when he returned his regard to Elrohir.

The twilight eyes were undecided. There was no certitude of his younger son's choice.

"Whatever you should choose, I will always love you, my Elf-knight," Elrond softly said, the slightest tremor resounding in his voice. "But I cannot wait another day to know it. I do not think I will have the fortitude to bear it should you decide to follow your sister's path."

Elrohir nodded in understanding. He glanced at Elladan then wordlessly moved away to think hard on this hardest of decisions. He settled himself in a corner of the chamber away from the others.

Elrond waited anxiously as his younger son struggled to come to a decision. He'd had little fear where Elladan was concerned. The older twin had the most compelling reason of all to choose immortality. The Lord of Rivendell thanked the fates once more for bringing his son and Thranduil's only daughter together in love.

Nay, his worries lay solely with Elrohir.

Elrond recalled the moment when he'd first discovered his younger son's heartbreaking secret. Until then, he'd known of no attachment that would persuade the younger twin to follow his brother's path save for his love for Elladan himself. But would that suffice? Elrond had sadly remembered how their twinship had not been enough to keep Elros by his side. His love for a mortal woman, she who became his Númenorean queen, had proved the stronger. Would history repeat itself? Would twin brothers be separated once more not only by distance but also by eternity itself?

It was then that he'd noticed how Elrohir had reacted to the announcement of Arwen and Aragorn's troth. Envy had mingled with his son's grief. Envy for his sister's happiness in having found love. At first, Elrond had wondered if his son sought a love of his own. Yet something had told him this was not the case. And so he'd taken to watching the Elf-knight.

Soon after, Legolas had come to Rivendell for a summer's visit. In that brief time, Elrond had at last perceived the truth. He saw it in Elrohir's regard for the Mirkwood prince, hidden when he was in his friend's presence but revealed once he thought himself unmarked. Elrond had discerned his abiding love and his centuries-long sorrow.

By Elbereth, Elrond had thought in shock. I have been blind.

He had been so immersed in the events that threatened Middle-earth and later distressed by his daughter's growing love for his mortal foster son that he had failed to see that which was under his very nose. For how long had Elrohir loved with such passion and suffered for it? For Legolas seemed frustratingly unaware of the younger twin's true feelings for him. Elladan warned me so long ago but I did not realize it had finally come to pass, Elrond had berated himself.

Suddenly, everything had become clear. Elrohir's choice would hinge solely on his feelings for one person. Elrond had began to look at Legolas with different eyes, fatherly suspicion aroused however belated. Was the Elf-prince worth his son's life, his very fate?

The revelation of the new condition pertaining to his children's choice had been a shock to say the least. But after the initial grief, he had set aside his regrets regarding Arwen's fate. Useless to cling to the 'what ifs' of her decision. It was done. There was no turning back for his daughter. But Elrohir was another matter.

That condition could be both boon and bane. It could encourage him to choose immortality if by it he could remain by his beloved's side. But it could also spur him towards the road Elrond's long-dead brother had trod. For it required a sacrifice of such magnitude as to make a lesser being than Elrohir cringe in despair. What if his son decided at the last that it was not worth it? That Legolas was not worth it? Would he not then choose the relatively quick solution of freedom in death?

Elrond had voiced this concern often enough in the weeks before his sons rode to war. Elrohir, ever plainspoken in all things save with the one he loved, had assured him he would not choose rashly. He'd had to content himself with that and rely on Gandalf's counsel to trust his son.

But now, with Elrohir's decision nigh at hand, he could not still his paternal misgivings. Try as he might, he could not help casting an occasional resentful glance at the reason for his Elf-knight's continuing misery. He felt Galadriel's tempering hand on his arm, caught her cautioning gaze. Nodding, he sighed and schooled his treacherous desire to vent his spleen upon the Mirkwood prince.

Meanwhile, Elladan went to his twin. He had no compunctions about persuading Elrohir to make the same choice as he. If he had to, he would channel all his strength into keeping his twin's elven fire burning. It was not something he desired if in doing so it prevented him from giving wholly of himself to Nimeithel. But if it would keep Elrohir from either mortal oblivion or elven waning, he would do it. Now that they had come to the crossroads, he comprehended that he would do anything to secure their eternal twinship.

Nimeithel would not resent sharing him with Elrohir. She had made that clear in the times they had come together down the centuries and in their correspondence. She knew and accepted what might have to be. It was he who had objected to such an arrangement. But she refused to withdraw her offer. She cherished Elrohir as heartily as she did Legolas and would not see him lost to Elfkind. It was no wonder Elladan loved her so.

Now if only Elrohir would cooperate and accept their joint sacrifice. He sat by his brother and spoke pleadingly to him, reminding him of their bond. He winced inwardly when upon softly voicing his and Nimeithel's loving offer, Elrohir flinched.

"Elladan, I cannot accept—"

"Do not refuse it—"

"'Tis too much—"

"Yet not enough it would seem!"

Elladan grabbed his brother by the shoulders. He was not surprised that Elrohir resisted his suggestion. It was not in his twin's nature to allow others to suffer for him.

"We do not wish to lose you, brother," he urgently said. "None of us do. Please accept our offer. Nimeithel and I will count it a small price to pay if by it we may keep you with us."

Legolas watched the brethren with mounting apprehension. Of the Elves present, he alone was not family. But he was as terrified of what Elrohir's decision might be as the others. Mayhap even more so.

For the memory of kinship would always keep the Elf-knight close to them even should fate itself part them evermore. But what did he have? Were Elrohir to pass away to where the spirits of Men abode, there would be nothing left of their long friendship. They did not share the same blood; they were not kin.

He groaned in frustration when Elrohir's undecided countenance changed little even in the face of Elladan's eloquence. He did not know what it was that Elladan had said to his brother; he only knew it seemed not enough to persuade Elrohir. If anything, the Elf-knight looked likely to refuse it. He glanced at the others.

Gandalf would not interfere of course; it was not his place to do so. But what of the others? Surely they were loath to let Elrohir go. Yet they held back; said nothing. Legolas wondered if honor and nobility prevented them from forcing the younger twin into a decision of their liking.

Well, confound honor and nobility! Legolas thought. What use was either if they should lose Elrohir for all eternity? His lips tightening with determination, he rose and approached the brethren.

Elrohir glanced up when the prince came to him then knelt before him as if in supplication. He noted Legolas' bleak expression.

"What troubles you, Calenlass?" he asked.

"Your possible choice," Legolas said earnestly, taking his hands in his. "Do you remember your promise to me? You said you would hearken to me first before choosing your course."

Elrohir did not speak at once. Finally he nodded and said softly, "I could not possibly make this decision without considering your wishes."

The prince gripped his friend's hands tightly. "I bring no counsel to you. I have not the skill or knowledge. But what I can do, what I must do is ask you to cleave to Elvenkind. Do not forsake our friendship, Elrohir. Do not forsake _me_. A Valinorean eternity would be lonely without you, _mellon nîn_."—my friend.

Elrohir stared at him. Long ago, the archer had pleaded thusly with him. He was doing so again with even more raw and fervent emotion than he had done then. Hundreds of years of the deepest of bonds had done their utmost on the Elf-prince.

Elrohir studied him then looked long at his brother. Elladan's gaze remained openly imploring. The younger twin visibly shuddered.

Behind them, Elrond tensed. Every muscle strained as he strove to master himself, to stifle the impulse to join them and add his own plea to theirs. But he knew better than to intrude now. Elrohir's fate teetered on a precipice and one wrong word, one misguided move could prove lethal.

Galadriel took his clenched fist and clasped it, Celeborn gripped his shoulder. Strength and succor flowed along the tenuous lines of their connection. Elrond drew a deep breath, calmed down and waited.

Legolas' clear voice resounded once more in the near silence.

"Elrohir, I beg of you, choose our kindred. Please, do not leave me."

Glossary:  
Adar – Father  
gwanneth – younger twin

_To be continued_…


	70. On the Edge of Forever 2

_**On the Edge of Forever**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
"I will cleave to Elvenkind."

The whispered declaration was akin to an explosion in the rapt stillness. For a moment, none spoke. None could find the words.

Then Legolas unleashed a ringing, joyful cry that jolted everyone out of their dazes. He flung his arms around his friend, torn between laughter and tears. A second later, Elladan threw his arms about Elrohir and hugged him tight. He buried his face in his brother's neck, shoulders heaving visibly.

Elrohir let out a shaky breath. It was done. He could not turn back now. Their tender assault had been more than he could withstand. He could not deny Elladan's wish, could not resist Legolas' plea. Not together.

He looked up to see Elrond before him. He swallowed hard. Never had he seen his father so radiant with joy. Tears streaked down the Elvenlord's cheeks and he did not trouble to still the tremors of relief that wracked his tall form. Elrohir gently freed himself from his brother and friend's joint embrace and went into his father's arms.

"Eru be praised," Elrond murmured as he held his son snugly.

He drew back and planted a tender kiss on Elrohir's temple. Reaching out a hand to Elladan, he drew his older son into his arms as well and caught both twins to his heart.

He glanced over their shoulders at Legolas who looked on with a brilliant smile. Whatever the Mirkwood prince's failings, he had played no small part in securing Elrohir's decision. His desperate entreaty coupled with Elladan's heartfelt pleas had won the future. Elrond owed him that much.

_Thank you, ernil neth_.—young prince.

Legolas started as the thought brushed his mind. He nodded at Elrond, his smile gentling.

oOoOoOo

They told Arwen when evening fell.

She took the news with remarkable composure though they could sense the sorrow that coursed through her. She did not begrudge her brothers their choice. But the surety of the eternal divergence of their paths naturally grieved her.

They assured her they would remain in Middle-earth until her passing. But they did not reveal to her the condition that allowed them to do so past their father's departure. Elrond and his sons were in tacit agreement that she should be spared the knowledge of what could have changed her fate had she but known it long before Aragorn's birth. And so they simply told her that they had been accorded the grace that they might keep her company until she and Aragorn left this world.

"I am glad for you, my brothers," she softly said. "But forgive me if I do not join you tonight. I cannot..." She bit her lip to still its quivering.

"We know, _muinthel_"—sister—Elladan whispered. "We understand."

oOoOoOo

The brethren kept company with each other until late that night. Slipping into shimmering grey raiment in their shared chamber, they spoke softly of the future, pondered their chosen road.

"_Gwaniuar_, regarding your offer... I thank you for it but there is no need," Elrohir suddenly said.

Elladan looked up warily. "Why do you refuse it?" he asked.

"You belong to Nimeithel. I will not have her share what should be wholly hers."

"But you—"

"I will bind myself to him."

Elladan gazed anxiously at his twin. "You told me he was worth it yet I sensed your doubts these past many days," he said. "'Tis why I made the offer."

"I know. And in truth, I did have doubts," Elrohir admitted.

"What caused them?"

"Something I discovered in Rohan."

Elladan peered at him frowningly. "Rohan?" he repeated. "What new trial is this, _gwanneth_?"—younger twin?

Elrohir hesitated then quietly told him. Elladan's eyes widened in consternation.

"Are you certain of this?" he demanded.

"I know him well," Elrohir softly said. "But do not let this disturb you further. I have found as much hope in this as I knew sorrow. I need only wait until the time is right."

Elladan sighed. "Ai, is there no end to your travails?" he said dolorously. "Of all the Elves in Arda, I wish you had not chosen him."

"Elladan—"

"You deem him worthy but I cannot be so kind. Not when he causes you so much pain."

"What he does is unwitting. He means me no harm and would denounce himself were he to know what he has wrought."

Elladan shook his head. "Spoken with a lover's forgiving heart," he muttered. "You say it gave you hope. What hope is this?"

"That he may yet open his heart to me."

The older twin pursed his lips then growled: "He had better! Else I swear he shall taste my steel!"

Elrohir laughed softly, touched by his brother's protective ire. He diverted his attention to another matter.

"Did my ears deceive me or did I overhear Grandmother and _Ada_ practically planning your nuptials this morn during the wedding feast?"

Elladan rolled his eyes. "You would think they would know better than to speak of such things before others who know nothing of my affairs!"

Elrohir chuckled. "They are only pleased that you have found your match."

"But they need not hurry me into wedded life!"

Legolas strolled into the chamber on the tail end of their conversation. He was in a sunny mood and looked amiably from one twin to the other.

"What besets you, Elladan?" he inquired, noting the older twin's rather flushed countenance.

Elrohir beamed welcomingly at him then glanced at his brother.

"He is imagining the delight of a certain Elf-maid when she learns of our choice," he smirked. "Mayhap another wedding shall be in the offing sooner than we expect."

Elladan scowled at his twin. "Hush, _muindor_, you will set Legolas upon me," he said.

"Nay," Legolas grinned. "If you are Nimeithel's chosen one, who am I to gainsay her? I warrant you will make her a good husband and I doubt you will find her wanting as a wife."

Elladan shook his head in exasperation. "First Grandmother and _Ada_, now you two. Why is everyone trying to marry me off?" he groaned.

"Because 'tis the only way to rein in your uncultured ways, _gwaniaur_," Elrohir snickered.

"Uncultured—!" Elladan glared at his twin. "I will seek peace and quiet elsewhere," he growled. "I would have some time to myself before we declare our intention. Without your annoying asides, _gwanneth_!"

Stalking out with as much dignity as he could muster, Elladan exited the chamber. Legolas and Elrohir shared a merry laugh before the latter resumed fastening his tunic. He was startled when he felt Legolas drape his silvery grey mantle over his shoulders. An instant later, the archer pinned a clasp to the neck of the cloak, the rayed star of the Dúnedain.

"_Hannon le, Calenlass_"—Thank you, Greenleaf—Elrohir smiled.

"Nay, 'tis I who should thank you," the archer replied.

"For what?"

"For watching over me from the moment you arrived in Rohan."

"I did nothing more than look out for a shield brother," Elrohir said dismissively.

"Do not deny what you did for me," Legolas chided him gently. "At Pelargir, on the Pelennor, even unto the very gate of Mordor; you were always there, guarding my back, keeping harm at bay."

Elrohir let his breath out at the prince's recitation of his deeds. Finally he said, "You are my best friend and heart's brother, Legolas. That alone would earn you my warrior's pledge of fellowship. But I also know you far more intimately than is deemed seemly for friends or brothers." He hesitated momentarily before pressing on. "I did not expect it but, in the course of our couplings, it seems a bond formed between us though you do not feel it. It impels me to seek your well-being, to protect you if I may."

Legolas stared at him then lowered his eyes guiltily. "I felt it, too," he admitted, flinching at Elrohir's surprised reaction. "But I did not heed it. I chose to protect Aragorn instead." He lifted craven eyes. "I failed you," he said shamefacedly.

"You did not fail me," Elrohir objected. "You did right in protecting Estel. You had sworn yourself to the Company and that meant serving him to the best of your abilities. The fate of Middle-earth lay as much on his survival as it did on the Ring-bearer's success. Frodo ensured the present; Estel, the future. Had I died on the Fields of the Pelennor or before the Black Gate, the tides of destiny would not have changed their course one way or the other. My life or death would not have mattered in the least."

He had meant to be reassuring to the archer, to show him his actions had not been wrong. But his words triggered a sudden vision that filled Legolas with dread.

He saw the Elf-knight, cradled limply in his arms, his face ashen, his lips near blue and still, his lids lowered with awful finality. He drew in a shuddering breath, turned horrified eyes on his friend.

"Legolas, what ails you?" Elrohir exclaimed, reaching out a hand as the prince seemed to reel from some unseen blow.

"Would not have mattered?" Legolas gasped incredulously. "You belittle yourself, Elrohir!" He raised a shaking hand to his suddenly chilled temple. "Had you died on the battlefield due to my negligence of our oaths, I—"

Elrohir's perplexed, wide-eyed reaction brought him up short. He struggled to regain his composure. Unbidden, his conversation with Gimli in Rohan came back to him.

Swallowing hard, he said, "'Tis only now that I realize how much I have always relied on you, _gwador_. Had you died, I would have been bereft, set adrift and lost." He took Elrohir's hand and gripped it tightly. "You are my strength, Elrohir, my haven. I would not know what to do with myself should I ever lose you."

Elrohir stared at him, astonished by the fervor of his declaration. Something indefinable flickered in his eyes.

"Let go of your fear, _ernilen_"—my prince—he said soothingly. "I am here, I am with you. And now that Elladan and I have made our choice, I will always be here for you. Always, Calenlass."

He smiled comfortingly at the still troubled archer. Gazing into the tender, steadfast grey pools, Legolas felt his spirit calm and his fear diminish.

"Then let us go and make certain that your choice is made true," he softly urged.

Elrohir nodded, his smile still reaching out to his friend in affection and succor. Together, they left the chamber and went to join Elladan and the others.

oOoOoOo

Few mortal eyes marked the gathering of _Edhil_ at the foot of Mindolluin. When Arwen had made her choice, it had been voiced in the bosom of her family alone for the consequences of her decision were so grievous to them that it did not bear being witnessed by others. But for the brethren, there would be no such secrecy. Their decision was cause for joy and celebration amongst the Firstborn and every Elf in Minas Tirith came forth for the occasion.

All garbed in grey, more elven than ever before, they could scarcely be discerned in the dark as they made their way to the appointed place. The few humans who did espy them found themselves uncertain if their eyes told them true. For why would anyone venture forth in the deeps of the night when all should be preparing for repose?

While all the other Elves gathered in a semi-circle behind them, the twins stepped into the space made for them before Gandalf. On either side of the Wizard stood Elrond and Galadriel. Directly to the brethren's left Glorfindel and Erestor waited while to the twins' right, Celeborn and Legolas held their ground. Behind them stood those of Elrond's household who had come to Minas Tirith – Lindir, Almáriel and Gildor Inglorion.

Elladan and Elrohir understood the significance of Elrond, Gandalf and Galadriel standing three abreast before them. They were the Keepers of the Rings wrought by Celebrimbor. Few were aware that their father and grandmother had long guarded two of them. Even fewer knew that Mithrandir held the third.

Silence descended on the gathering as Gandalf addressed the brothers.

"You must be certain of your decision for there will be no repenting of it once it is declared," he told them.

Elladan quickly glanced at his twin then looked to their father. Elrond was careful to keep his demeanor as still and impassive as possible before so many other Elves. Nevertheless, he could not completely conceal his anxiety that his younger son might yet change his mind at this last moment.

Elrohir turned his head to look at Legolas. Unlike the Lord of Rivendell, the prince of Mirkwood did not hide his thoughts or feelings. They were plainly visible on his face. His eyes pleaded for what he could not say out loud.

Silently and irrevocably, a heart was pledged, a spirit bound.

Elrohir drew in his breath and said, "I stand by my choice. I will cleave to Elvenkind."

He did not miss the archer's expression of intense relief. He smiled at his friend then turned to look at his twin.

Elladan's answering smile was touched by melancholy. He knew what Elrohir had done; saw the evidence in the Elf-knight's eyes. He let love and comfort flow towards his brother as he said: "I choose as you do, _gwanunig nîn_. I, too, will be of the _Edhil_."

There was a discernable sigh amongst the other Elves, not least from Elrond. Forgetful of his obligation to maintain a dignified mien, the Elvenlord was smiling unabashedly, his joy at gaining his sons for eternity getting the better of him.

Gandalf gestured to the brethren and gravely said: "As you have chosen so must you now declare it to the Valar."

The twins looked skyward to the stars, conscious of other presences that were intangible yet oh-so ancient and powerful. The breeze suddenly died down and the night became wrapped in stillness.

Elladan spoke first. "Hearken to us, almighty Valar. Before thy thrones we present our plea. As is our right and duty, we lay our choice before thee."

Elrohir continued. "O Lords of the West, we claim our _Edhil_ heritage and the privilege to make our eternal abode in Elvenhome amongst our kin."

"Manwë Sulimo, King of Arda, receive us."

"Elbereth, Lady of the Stars, we ask for thy blessings."

Elrond solemnly intoned: "I pass the mantle of stewardship over my sons' fates to those with whom they wouldst be bound."

Legolas looked sharply at the Lord of Rivendell, surprised at his words. They held true for Elladan but he could not help wondering how they could apply to Elrohir. But when Gandalf spoke, his pronouncement proved an even greater distraction.

"Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, seed of Lúthien, Idril and Eärendil, thou hast chosen to join thy fates to the Firstborn," the Wizard said. "For as long as they to whom thou wouldst bind thyselves remain in Middle-earth thou shalt possess the life of the Eldar. But when they depart these shores, thou shalt depart with them to make thy homes in Valinor evermore. Dost thou pledge thyselves to this?"

"We do," the twins said in unison.

As they finished speaking, one star suddenly shone brightly, piercing the blackness of the night sky with unwonted brilliance.

"'Tis Grandfather," Elladan whispered in awe.

Elrond smiled as he, too, looked skyward. "Aye. He is well pleased with your choice."

As if to emphasize his words, the sky was suddenly set ablaze as all the constellations and countless other stars seemed to shine their brightest. All over Gondor, the wonder of this night was noted and would be remembered long after the last of the Eldar departed Middle-earth's shores. But only the Firstborn knew that this strange occurrence portended something momentous for one or some of their own.

Looking out from their bedchamber, the King and Queen of Gondor joined hands and stared at the brilliant sky. Aragorn did not know of his foster brothers' plans for that evening and so did not perceive the reason for the phenomenon he beheld. But at his side, Arwen trembled with mingled awe and sorrow for she understood the significance of this emphatic outpouring of light.

As the stars' brightness slowly began to wane, the twins sensed the change in themselves. It was as if a part of them had been drained away only to be filled once more with something else. The elven fire at their core kindled to its fullest even as their mortal essence slipped away.

"It is done," Gandalf pronounced, now beaming broadly.

Elrond promptly dropped all pretence of dignity and restraint and drew both his sons into a tight, heartfelt embrace before they were swept into likewise loving hugs by Celeborn and Galadriel. Elrohir gasped as Legolas caught him to himself with almost backbreaking fervor. The prince's joyful countenance was all that was needed to eliminate whatever doubts the younger twin may still have harbored.

After Legolas released him, Elrond came back to his side and murmured: "Take heart, my valiant Elf-knight. Your reward will come to you. And if I and all who know me as their lord must prostrate ourselves before the Powers in Aman on your behalf, by my father's light, I swear it shall be done."

Elrohir managed a smile. "That should be a sight to behold, _Ada_," he replied with a trace of humor. "A pity Elladan and I will not be able to witness it."

Elladan chuckled and, throwing a comradely arm about Elrohir's shoulders, pressed his forehead against his twin's.

oOoOoOo

Arwen continued to stare at the fading brilliance of the stars, her face frozen. Her husband regarded her with curiosity. Only when the tears trickled down her cheeks did he realize that something grieved her.

"My love, what troubles you?" he exclaimed, taking her into his arms.

Arwen leaned her head on his shoulder, seeking comfort in his strength. "Elladan and Elrohir have made their choice," she whispered.

Aragorn started. "Their choice?" He looked up at the skies once more. The stars were almost back to normal. "Then this display of light—"

"Was in acceptance and blessing of it."

Aragorn fell silent for a while. He stroked his wife's hair consolingly. "They have chosen to be of Elvenkind."

"Aye." She looked up at the King. "I rejoice for them for I have always felt their fates lay in Aman and not in Middle-earth. But I also grieve for I am now truly sundered from my family."

Aragorn looked at her somberly. He drew a deep breath. "Do you then regret your decision?'

Arwen smiled through her tears. "Nay, that I would never do. My place is with you, Estel. As my brothers' are with the Firstborn and those who hold their hearts."

Her husband nodded in understanding. "They did it for _Adar_ and your mother who awaits you all in Elvenhome. Nimeithel as well had a role in this, I suppose."

"And Legolas," Arwen softly said.

"Legolas?" Aragorn responded in some surprise. "Think you he had much influence on their decision?"

"On Elrohir's decision," the Queen said. "He told me that Legolas was greatly distressed when he first learned of the choice of the Peredhil. He pleaded even then with my brother not to forsake their friendship. And knowing Legolas, he would have renewed his plea this very day. Elrohir has seldom found the wherewithal to deny Legolas anything. You know how much he cherishes him."

Aragorn sighed, nodding. "Will they go with _Adar_ when he departs for the West?"

Arwen shook her head. "They have been permitted to stay on for the duration of your reign, Estel."

Aragorn smiled fondly. "I am glad to hear that, _meleth nîn_. Life would not be as interesting without the twins to enliven it."

Glossary:  
gwanneth – younger twin  
muindor – brother  
Ada, Adar – Papa, Father  
gwador – sworn brother  
Edhil – Elves  
gwanunig nîn – my twin  
meleth nîn – my love

**Author Unknown:** Thank you for all the reviews. "Priceless" is a stand-alone that can be applied to any story involving the twins' early years. I have expanded "An Ounce of Kindness" but whether I post it here or not will depend largely on the reception of G&I's later parts which will be considerably more sensual and explicit than the earlier ones. If I'm not lynched for them or get enough reassuring feedback, then I might post the expanded version of "An Ounce of Kindness" here as well. Again, thank you for continuing to leave reviews. I truly appreciate it.

_To be continued_…


	71. On the Edge of Forever 3

_**On the Edge of Forever**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
"Are you truly set on visiting Fangorn?" Elladan smilingly inquired.

Gimli grimaced and said: "I misguidedly gave my word and I will not have it said that a Dwarf does not know how to keep a promise!"

The others laughed at his less than pleased countenance. The others being Elrohir and Legolas, and Frodo and his ever faithful Sam.

"Come now, Gimli, I have promised to explore the Glittering Caves with you," Legolas pointed out. "The least you can do is return the gesture with good grace."

Gimli snorted at the idea. "So like an Elf," he muttered.

They were gathered together on the green lawn of the Citadel, the velvety growth making for comfortable seating for the Elves and Hobbits at least. The Dwarf was another matter but he'd held his tongue and gingerly arranged his bluff self upon the springy grass.

It was the last afternoon before the kings of Gondor and Rohan departed for the Riddermark bearing Theoden's earthly remains to his last resting place in the Barrowfield outside of Edoras. A great company of the noblest of both realms would escort the valiant king on the fifteen-day trek to Rohan. All the Elves would be part of this company, as would four Hobbits and one Dwarf.

Gimli had managed to persuade Legolas to agree to visit Aglarond with him upon the return to Rohan. The Dwarf had been so enthralled by the beauty of the caverns that he'd actually found the eloquence to convince the Elf-prince that they were worth more than a peek.

Legolas had agreed somewhat reluctantly but, in return, he'd elicited a promise from Gimli to explore the fastness of Fangorn with him before they went home to their respective realms. Gimli had duly sworn to this but without much enthusiasm.

Since then, he'd proclaimed loudly and often that his mother had not raised him to be any prissy Elf's bodyguard. To which Legolas would be heard to retort that _his_ mother had not raised him to baby-sit recalcitrant Dwarves either! The twins had been hard-pressed to decide which course of action to take: to sit back and enjoy the verbal fray or interfere and prevent another war from erupting.

"And you, Ring-bearer?" Elrohir gently asked. "What are your plans?"

Frodo gestured in the general direction of where home lay. "I would dearly like to return to the Shire," he said. "It seems like ages since I left Bag End. I'd thought I would never see it again." He smiled at his companions.

Sam said: "We'll have a bit of a well-earned rest when we get home, Mr. Frodo. And I can hardly wait to see my old Gaffer again."

"Not to mention Rosie Cotton," Frodo added with a grin. Sam's subsequent blush led to another round of guffaws.

The twins eyed the star-shaped gem upon Frodo's chest that hung from the fine silver chain around his neck. They knew full well why their sister had gifted the Halfling with it.

"Aye, it will indeed be a well-earned rest," Elrohir said softly.

He clasped the Hobbit on the shoulder comfortingly. The shoulder that bore the morgul-wound, Sam noticed.

"Well, it will be a while before _I_ get any rest," Gimli harrumphed. "What with this dratted Elf wanting to explore haunted forests and the like. You would think he'd had his fill of adventure but, no, he has to go and look for more trouble!"

"Fangorn is not haunted!" Legolas protested.

"Any place that harbors talking trees has to be haunted!" Gimli retorted.

"Ents are not trees!"

"They certainly fooled me!"

"Are you backing out of our bargain?" the Elven prince challenged.

"Nay, I am only stating my opinion," Gimli huffed.

"Fearful are we?" Legolas smirked.

"I fear nothing!" Gimli roared indignantly.

"Yet you nearly did not enter the Dark Door in the Dwimorberg as I recall," Legolas goaded.

"Why you impertinent, pointy-eared, son of a—!"

"Peace, both of you!" Elladan laughed, hastening to placate the spluttering Dwarf. "We have just ended one war. Let us not start another!"

Between them, he and Elrohir managed to jestingly cajole Gimli back into good humor while Frodo and Sam looked on with some amazement. Finally, after a merry spell, the Dwarf decided he wanted ale and invited the others to go seek some with him. Elladan and the Hobbits agreed to accompany him to the nearest tavern but Elrohir and Legolas declined. They remained seated on the verdant carpet while the others sauntered away.

"You really should not tease Gimli," Elrohir grinned. "The bite of a Dwarven axe is not anything to sneeze at."

Legolas snickered. "He is as bad as I am," he said. "I was merely giving him a taste of his own medicine."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, did he say to you that you deem so wicked?"

Legolas opened his mouth to regale him with what transpired during their ride through Rohan. But then he realized that the object of that discussion had been Elrohir himself. He suddenly felt uncomfortable about bringing up the subject.

"Just some ridiculous notion of his," he dismissed.

Elrohir regarded him curiously for a while then shrugged and dropped the matter. He turned his attention to a group of courtiers walking towards the White Tower. A group of distressingly over-dressed courtiers who came as near to prancing as he'd ever had the misfortune to witness.

"Poor Estel," he said with amusement. "I wager he wishes he were but a mere Ranger once more rather than deal with those foppish sycophants. The way they preen themselves, you would think they'd personally defended Minas Tirith from our foes when in truth they most likely spent the war cowering under their beds."

Legolas chuckled. "Aye, they think rather highly of themselves. Poor Estel, indeed. But no one ever said 'twould be easy being king."

Elrohir smiled in agreement. After a moment, Legolas said: "Elrohir?"

"Hm?"

"About your choice?"

Elrohir's shoulders seemed to stiffen. He turned his attention back to the archer.

"What of it?" he lightly asked. But his suddenly guarded eyes belied the casualness of his tone.

The prince frowned at his changed demeanor. "Lord Elrond and Mithrandir said some rather odd things that night," he commented. "I did not quite understand what they meant."

Was it his imagination or had Elrohir suddenly tensed?

"What did you not understand, _ernilen_?"—my prince?

"They alluded to the need for you and Elladan to – to bind yourselves should you desire to remain in Middle-earth," Legolas said. "That makes sense where Elladan is concerned but you..." He looked at the Elf-knight uncertainly. "Have you—? While I was away, did you... find someone?"

"Someone?"

"To bind yourself to," Legolas said. There was just the faintest hint of a shadow in his otherwise bright blue eyes.

"And if I did?" the warrior rejoined after a noticeable pause.

The archer said haltingly: "I cannot dictate what you may or may not do. But I cannot help worrying that if there is someone waiting for you in Imladris... that our friendship will... fail." He sighed. "Already I feel the lessening of the bond between you and Elladan now that he is promised to my sister. Yet you are twins. What more of your regard for me? I fear it will diminish... should you take a spouse."

The Elf-knight was silent for the longest while. "It is not diminished," he said at last. "And it never will be." He looked away into the distance. "And I am not joined to... another. Nor do I plan to be any time soon."

Legolas gazed at him in puzzlement. "But they said... they said you must bind yourself to remain here... and still be of Elf-kind."

"A pledge was all that was needed," Elrohir replied. "I made it."

"And is there no limit to the time you have to find someone?" Legolas queried anxiously.

Elrohir took his hand and squeezed it. "I have more than enough time, Calenlass. Do not worry yourself over this."

Legolas studied him doubtfully. "I hope so," he finally said.

Elrohir regarded him gravely in turn.

"And you, Legolas?" he quietly inquired. "Should you give your heart away, will your regard for me lessen?"

The archer stared at him in surprise. "I told you, my heart is mine to keep," he pointed out. "I do not care to unlock it."

"But should you…?"

Legolas shook his head fiercely. "That will not happen, _gwador_. For this I promise you: if the impossible should come to pass and my betrothed demanded that of me I would sooner break my troth than abandon our friendship."

Another silence fell between them. Legolas wondered at his friend's mood.

At length, Elrohir lifted a hand and tucked an errant lock of silver gold behind the prince's ear. And then he smiled and it was of such tenderness and affection that it just about took Legolas' breath away.

"That comforts me," Elrohir softly said. Before Legolas could say more, he rose to his feet, pulling the archer along with him. "Come, let us join the others. Let us toast this last day in Minas Tirith with good company, wine and song."

Legolas snorted dubiously. "With song? That might be possible with Hobbits, but a Dwarf?"

Elrohir laughed. "And as Elladan said, let us not start another war!"

Glossary:  
gwador –sworn brother

The End

**Author Unknown: **Thank you. Yes, it was a bittersweet chapter. I think the choice of the Peredhil is one of the most difficult and heartbreaking conditions ever imposed on fictional characters.  
**The Sheltering Willow: **Thanks so much. I'm glad you're enjoying this story.

**Part 19: **Consequences – We can lie to others but we cannot truly lie to ourselves. A binding without precedent brings about some unexpected consequences. Rating: M


	72. Consequences 1 The Mind's Eye

**AN:** This series just got its first negative response and in an amazingly oblique way, too. It's been included in a C2 that goes by the name 'When Bad Fanfiction Happens to Good People' and hosts _A collection of toe curling fanfiction by writers who have some, very limited, talent. It's cliched storylines, canon annihilation, vom inducing romance and dodgy dialogue galore! Not a C2 for fangirls._ I don't know which is more disturbing - that there are only fourteen stories listed out of more than a thousand fics in this category (does that mean these are the worst of the lot?) or being relegated to fangirl status at my age (several years married with three sons). Ah well, everyone has their reasons for disliking certain stories. There are worse things that could happen - like having to maintain an archive of bad fanfiction that's happened to good people.

**Summary:** We can lie to others but we cannot truly lie to ourselves. A binding without precedent brings about some unexpected consequences.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the Wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Consequences**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I: The Mind's Eye  
_Úrui_ T.A. 3019  
The grassy plains of Rohan spread out endlessly before the lone rider. It was a perfect day for a jaunt into the vastness of the Riddermark. Bright and breezy and nary a dark cloud to shadow the impossibly blue sky. Or a ferocious Orc or unruly Dunlending to mar the peace and quiet.

Legolas grinned as Arod galloped happily across the wide expanse of horse-trodden land with only the lightness of an Elf upon his back. Said Elf suspected his steed had always sensed the Dwarf's unease with his four-legged kindred and returned the dislike with equal lack of affection.

A brightly sparkling stream revealed itself just below the low hill they now crested. He turned Arod towards the silvery streak. It was time for a cooling drink for both horse and rider.

While Arod took his fill, Legolas moved a fair distance upstream to take his. He knelt before the stream and scooped up a good mouthful with his hands. As he let the refreshing liquid slide down his throat, he watched the waters return to their languid flow, the crystalline surface alike to a well-polished mirror.

He stared as his reflection grew more distinct. His breath caught. A face appeared just above his shoulder.

Legolas turned swiftly. Argent eyes met his sapphire gaze. "Elrohir!" he said with delight. "What brings you here?"

The Elf-knight shrugged and only said with a faint smile, "I saw you."

Legolas watched with some bemusement as he turned and walked to the lone tree by the stream. The warrior sank down in its shade and leaned his lissome frame against the gnarled trunk. After a moment, Legolas rose and joined him. He regarded his friend with some disconcertment. But Elrohir did not look at him.

"I pray your sojourn in Fangorn with Gimli will bring you naught but pleasure," the Elvenlord murmured, eyes on the stream.

Legolas stared at him curiously. "Why so formal in your manner, Elrohir?" he queried. "Indeed, you have been distant with me these past many days."

"Have I?" Elrohir countered mildly. "I was not aware of it."

The archer felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He did not know why or how but it seemed a gap yawned between him and the Elf-knight. A gap that frightened him. It was alarming not to feel their closeness of yore; he had always depended on it for forbearance and courage. He studied Elrohir wonderingly.

The Elf-knight had bound his hair into the single, thick plait that suited him so well. It revealed his finely sculpted countenance and emphasized the un-elvish broadness of his shoulders, which contrasted so sensuously with his otherwise slender form. But of a sudden, Legolas longed to see the raven locks loose and wanton upon those very shoulders.

Wordlessly, he reached over and, without asking his friend leave to do so, unclasped the long braid. Elrohir watched him impassively as he ran his hand through the sable skein until the warrior's tresses flowed like a cascade of blue-black silk, spilling gloriously upon his shoulders and down his back. With his hair's loosening the Elf-knight's distinctive scent also came to the fore. Legolas closed his eyes as the sweet aromas of the hidden vale assailed his nostrils.

He opened his eyes and realized with a start that Elrohir was watching him. He swallowed hard, abashed by his friend's regard. But Elrohir made no move save to tilt his head slightly and raise a questioning eyebrow. At a loss for a rational explanation for his actions, Legolas found himself staring at the twin's mouth instead. The sinuous lips seemed rosier than usual to the prince's suddenly fogged mind.

Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Elrohir's. Caught them and could not help savoring them. They were not like any Elf-maid's or akin even to those of the _ellyn_, or male Elves, of Lórien who had dared to steal this favor from him, much to their immediate rue. Not even in the Golden Wood had he known any like the Elf-knight's lips. Or desired them.

Warm and soft and sweet yet ripe with barely leashed power and passion just simmering below some intangible surface. He broke off the kiss, his breath hitching in his throat at the turbulent feelings this mere caress evoked within him. He became aware of Elrohir's wary gaze.

"Calenlass, you said you wished us to be as we once were," he quietly reminded the archer. "To be friends and no more."

Legolas flushed. "I know," he said stumblingly. "But after all I have endured, I – 'tis only that – I cannot go on without – without—"

He looked away in distress, cheeks scarlet with shame, unable to put into words what he felt, what he needed. A gentle hand cupped his chin and compelled him to face his friend once more. Elrohir studied him intently. And then the warrior pulled him close and kissed him.

Shame swiftly dissipating with the answering of his desire, Legolas sighed and sank into the Elf-knight's arms. A part of him wondered in confusion: Why do I crave his touch? What is wrong with me? But another part, the greater part, did not care to ponder the conundrum and only wanted to know Elrohir's inimitable possession once more.

Liquid fire swept through his veins as the warrior proved to him all over again the exquisite singularity of his prowess in this field of battle. It seemed but a moment ere he found himself supine upon Elrohir's cloak, his clothing cast aside, the twin blanketing him with more than his formidable form.

He shuddered as Elrohir's lips paved a burning path down the column of his throat to the shallowly heaving planes of his chest. The searing quest continued, leaving crimson smears on the pale skin of his belly, making him gasp in elated felicity. A moan broke from his lips as the sensitive clefts that framed his groin were teasingly laved and nipped.

While powerful hands gripped and stroked his thighs, a preying mouth ensnared him, nearly making him howl out his joy. He helplessly bucked into the Elf-knight's mouth, the rapture of Elrohir's attentions bringing him perilously close to completion. The warrior suddenly released him.

"Nay!" he gasped imploringly. "Elrohir, please do not leave me thusly!"

"I will not, _ernilen_"—my prince—Elrohir purringly assured him. "Your pleasure is mine. Always."

Legolas stared up dazedly at him as he moved between his legs, lifting them, preparing him for breaching. When it came, the archer groaned pleasurably, arching into his slow, deep piercing. And then he almost sobbingly cried out as Elrohir stroked him in time with his bruising thrusts.

The rapturous pressure grew in his nether regions with every delve and caress. Elrohir caught his gaze and held it. Legolas thought he would drown in the twilight depths. They lured him, beguiled him, steadily undid him.

_Let go, Calenlass_, urged the silent, irresistible command.

Release came with crashing force, overwhelming him until he could hold himself back no longer and he hoarsely keened the Elf-knight's name, the sound of it ringing across the serene plains.

"Legolas! Are you all right!"

The gruffly voiced query jolted the Elf, so jarringly different was it from the deep, melodious tones of his friend turned lover. He blinked in confusion as he beheld Gimli's anxious countenance hovering over him. The Dwarf's hair and beard was a tousled mess for he had been hauled out of deep slumber most precipitately. Legolas looked about him, disoriented, and tried to reconcile the open, airy vastness of Rohan with this closed, tree-crowded darkness. The springy grass beneath him had given way to creeping moss and fallen leaves.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Where are—?" Gimli sputtered. "In Fangorn Forest, of course! Where else did you think you were?" He glared with some exasperation at the still befuddled Elf. "That must have been quite a nightmare for you to call out your Elf-knight's name so loudly."

That effectively startled Legolas into more coherence. "He is not _my_ Elf-knight," he protested.

Gimli snorted. "Whatever he may be to you, 'twas his name you cried out and verily roused me out of my own dreams!" he retorted. "And such pleasant dreams I was having, too!"

Legolas had the grace to feel repentant. "Forgive me for disturbing your rest, Gimli," he said ruefully. "It shall not happen again."

The Dwarf merely turned a skeptical look on him. "As if you can control your dreams," he growled. "Dratted Elf."

Legolas scowled and shifted on his pallet to smooth out his cloak, which had evidently tangled itself around his tall frame during his nocturnal thrashings. As he did so, his shirt hem shifted just as Gimli's stare, his concerned sweep of the archer's form belying his curmudgeonly manner, fell on that particular region.

The Dwarf's eyes widened. He suddenly grinned wolfishly to Legolas' surprise and apprehension.

Gimli chuckled knowingly. "_Your_ Elrohir is quite a master if what he once did with you is capable of leaving so deep a mark on your memory," he said with a smirk.

The prince stared at him bewilderedly, failing to counter the charge anew. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Why, only that I am impressed that he can undo you even in your dreams!" Gimli proclaimed triumphantly, all umbrage gone. He looked pointedly at the Elf's lap.

Legolas glanced down then turned a deep red. The evidence of his explosive release betrayed itself in the small but visible dark splotch in the crotch of his breeches. He suddenly pulled his cloak around his form to hide the telltale shadow.

Gimli continued to snicker as he lay down once more upon his pallet. Legolas closed his eyes in embarrassment as he heard a chortlingly muttered: "In a pig's eye!"

But even as his cheeks burned, his mind's eye evinced the reason for his discomfiture. Against all reason and his own will, he saw an incomparably comely face before him. And a pair of luminous twilight eyes gazed back tenderly at him. As they had always done down the centuries of his life.

Glossary:  
Úrui - Sindarin for August  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	73. Consequences 2 Never Before

_**Consequences**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Never Before  
The singeing caress of hungry lips and the searing clutch of desirous hands breached his defenses. Sleek ivory flesh undulated beneath his own surging body. There was no evading the rapture that had inflamed his body without warning. No way to escape the slowly but inexorably mounting pressure in his groin that portended a completion of heart stopping intensity.

Elrohir gasped as he felt himself slowly gloved in silken warmth; groaned as lean but powerful legs locked around him, welcoming his intrusion. The pressure deepened and soon he was on the edge of a beckoning chasm. A cry rang out in his mind; a cry so fulsome in its joy it ruptured whatever hold he may have still had upon himself. He exploded with pleasure and spilled his seed against his struggling will.

He hissed in shock at this undoing then opened his eyes to stare unseeingly at the ceiling of the tent he shared with his brother.

It was the fourth day since they parted from Aragorn close to the Gap of Rohan; a day longer since they left Legolas and Gimli on the outskirts of Fangorn Forest. Their company of Elves, Hobbits and one Wizard had been travelling steadily northwards, setting up camp wherever night found them. The Dunlendings had not troubled them at all for they did not dare tangle with Elvish folk.

The Hobbits had been merry for the most part, eager for home and hearth, though there were moments when Frodo would fall silent and steep himself in contemplation. Whereupon Sam would fidget and fuss over him in worry and Merry and Pippin would be less voluble than usual and just sit companionably with their cousin until his mood passed. The Elves, on the other hand, were neither gay nor dolorous but merely thoughtful about the years to come. For many, their days in Middle-earth were numbered and it was time to take stock of the future and prepare for the final passage to Valinor.

But the twins were not of this number and their musings therefore apart from the others. In particular, Elrohir had thought little of other than the deed that bound his spirit irrevocably to the one he loved. The one who did not know of either love or binding.

Now it was night once more and all was silent. Except in the brethren's tent. Elrohir heard his own uneven breathing, harsh in the dark stillness. He had been struck and swiftly overtaken by something he had not expected and did not quite know what to do about.

Elrohir shuddered as the throes of his unbidden release slowly faded. A hand clasped his arm and he blinked. Elladan's concerned countenance came into focus. So immersed had he been in his mixed feelings of rapture and alarm that he had not marked his brother's entrance.

Elladan had gone for a walk with Almáriel and Gildor Inglorion after the evening meal and was just returned. The camp was utterly quiet for all others were fast asleep.

"What is wrong, _muindor_?"—brother—Elladan asked. "A dream?"

"If only it were," Elrohir whispered in agitation. He sat up shakily from his pallet and threw off his cloak, revealing the evidence of his release. Elladan stared at him in surprise, wondering at his discomfiture.

"There is nothing wrong in having such dreams," he said gently.

"But I was neither asleep nor dreaming," Elrohir soberly told him. "The pleasure was mine but not the cause of it."

That elicited an expression of puzzlement. "But how—?" Elladan's eyes widened. "Legolas?" he said in disbelief.

"It can only be him," Elrohir agreed in a hushed voice.

The older twin could only stare in astonishment for a while. At length, he said: "It must have been a powerful dream for you to have sensed it at this distance."

Elrohir could not help a slight blush. "Too powerful for comfort," he confessed. "I did not think him capable of such wanting."

"Did you not?" Elladan said somewhat skeptically. "Yet if I remember right, your last joining was beyond anything you'd ever expected as you yourself put it."

The blush deepened slightly. "It was under unusual circumstances," Elrohir countered uneasily. "'Twas but our reconciliation after the grievous near sundering of our friendship."

Elladan snorted. "And how many friends reconcile by coupling?" he bluntly stated.

"Elladan!"

The older twin raised his hands to ward off an imaginary punch. Despite the gravity of Elrohir's situation, he could not help grinning at the full blossoming of color in his twin's cheeks. It was not every day that anyone could make Elrohir blush so heartily. After calmly enduring the other's glare, he turned serious once more.

"Did you know his mind then?" he queried curiously.

Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, not that. But the feelings he felt, aye, and fragments of – of thoughts. I sensed his confusion." The Elf-knight looked musingly his brother. "Much like what we have been told about what happens through—"

"The binding channel," Elladan finished for him. The Elf-lord blew out his breath. "This is astounding indeed. Have you sensed other than this since—?"

"This is the first I have known this," Elrohir said. "In truth, it frightened me even when it pleasured me."

"Why should this have frightened you?" Elladan asked, a twinge of fear shading his voice. Was his twin already regretting his choice? "'Twas Legolas you shared it with after all."

"I did not expect it at all," Elrohir explained. "I was not prepared either in body or mind. And I admit, I wondered if it truly was him or only my desperate longing." He sighed. "I thought that mayhap the binding was driving me mad."

Elladan let out a relieved exhalation and threw a comforting arm around his brother's suddenly slumped shoulders. "Mithrandir would never have broached anything that would have so evil an effect on you. On any of us," he softly reminded the other. "'Twas a gift of the Valar, Elrohir."

The Elf-knight managed a tremulous smile. "I know," he murmured. He looked up and met Elladan's gaze. Sadness limned his argent eyes but it did not in any way mar the serenity in their depths. "Fear not, _gwaniuar_, I do not regret what I did. Even were it to indeed drive me mad, I would never rue it."

Elladan did not know whether to be pleased or grieved by his brother's implacable love for the woodland prince. How was it that fate could be so kind to him and cruel to his twin? It was enough to make any Elf question the wisdom of the Powers themselves.

And then he brightened up of a sudden. "But this should hearten you," he said, his lips curling into a grin. "He desires you whatever he may claim. He cannot control his body's yearnings and his dreams betray the truth." He clasped his twin's shoulder. "When you make your move at last, I think he will be hard-pressed to resist it."

"That encourages me," Elrohir replied with a small smile. And then he frowned in perplexity. "But that does not change the fact that this should not have been possible. How could it have happened?" he said. "I should not sense any of his thoughts or feelings as he might sense mine."

"Are you guarding yours?" Elladan asked.

Elrohir nodded. "Most carefully," he said. "He will know naught of my binding to him unless I tell him."

Elladan pursed his lips. "It is puzzling," he admitted. "The channel between you is not wholly affirmed. The flow should come from you alone." He sighed in frustration. "But then again, we know next to nothing about one-sided bindings. There has not been its like before."

"Will it always be thusly?" Elrohir wondered with some trepidation. To be always on his guard against such unruly feelings day after day—! What if they should overcome him when they were least appropriate?

Elladan discerned his brother's concerns at once. "I think the intensity of it was because you are newly parted," he said musingly. "As he learns to cope with his need for your company such dreams and thoughts will likely diminish. And your connection should weaken as we put more distance between us and Rohan."

"But when we meet again?" Elrohir murmured. "What then?"

"You will have learned to shield yourself by then," Elladan pointed out. "There is nothing you cannot achieve when you set yourself to it. You have taken after Father and are gifted in matters of the mind. 'Tis probably another reason why you have proven so sensitive now," he said with sudden insight.

Elrohir rolled his eyes in frustration. "I am not certain if it is a gift or curse if I must now guard against his feelings as well as shield mine!"

Elladan looked sympathetically at the younger twin. "We can ask Father about this come morning. And mayhap Grandmother and Grandfather as well."

Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, I will not trouble _Ada_ with my problems. He deserves his peace and rest after all he has endured. I will not have him sail West carrying yet another worry with him." He glanced out the open flap of the tent to where Celeborn and Galadriel reposed in theirs. "And they will be parting from each other soon. I do not care to add to their burden either. Not that I think any of them truly know," he added. "They are mavens of elven lore but this is outside the bounds of lore."

"Mithrandir then?" Elladan suggested.

Elrohir smiled wanly and said: "Do Wizards ever give a straight answer?"

The older twin had to chuckle ruefully. "They are worse than Elves," he acknowledged.

Elrohir chuckled briefly as well. "But I doubt he knows much more than we do. Else he would have warned us of the consequences as well," he remarked. "'Tis not his way to give a solution and not reveal what it entails. I fear this is a riddle I must solve by myself."

Elladan shook his head resignedly. "So it seems. Yet Mithrandir may be able to help you control the channel until you are ready for what flows through it."

Elrohir considered this. "He may," he conceded. "I will speak with him tomorrow." He lay down once more.

Elladan regarded his brother with concern. After a moment, he pulled his pallet closer and reclined upon it beside Elrohir. "Here, _gwanneth_, let me hold you tonight," he quietly offered.

Elrohir gratefully turned into his brother's protective embrace. In their twinship, he had always found much comfort for his griefs and rages. In Elladan's loving custody, he knew some peace as he gradually slipped into slumber.

But his dreams, waking or not, were still of the fairest Wood-elf of them all.

Glossary:  
gwaniuar – older twin  
Ada – Papa  
gwanneth – younger twin

The End

**Nina & Author Unknown:** I've always admired the character of Gimli. He may not have been the wisest of the Dwarves but, young as he was at the time of the War of the Ring, he displayed great intelligence and a lot of good sense throughout the Quest. And for him to engage in good-natured competition with Legolas during the Battle of the Hornburg, he was probably possessed of a generous sense of humor, too. As for the bantering, well, it seemed natural between an Elf and a Dwarf for all their great friendship.

**Part 20:** What the Morrow Will Bring – As the Third Age draws to an end, the twins and Legolas ponder their futures in a Middle-earth that has passed into the dominion of Men. Rating: M (het/slash)


	74. What the Morrow Will Bring

**Summary:** As the Third Age draws to an end, the twins and Legolas ponder their futures in a Middle-earth that has passed into the dominion of Men.

**Characters:** Elrohir/Legolas (implied), Elladan/OFC

**Rating:** M for sexual content (het/slash)

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** This is the last of the stories set during the events in LotR and the Third Age.

_**What the Morrow Will Bring**_  
_by Eressë_

Eryn Lasgalen, _laer_ T.A. 3020  
Morning dawned bright and golden on the High Pass in the Misty Mountains, the main passageway over the towering peaks to the lands east of the range. Following the route, a party of five travellers on horseback slowly made its way. Cloaked in grey, their heads hooded, they might have been mistaken for ordinary Men but for the slenderness of three and the exceptional grace with which they bore themselves even upon their steeds and the surprising smallness of the other two. As the morning lengthened and the sun grew warmer, they pulled back their hoods, revealing the features that marked them as altogether nonhuman. They were Elves from the hidden vale of Rivendell. Plus two adventurous Hobbits.

The brethren Elladan and Elrohir had received word the previous winter that their long-time friend Legolas had finally returned to his father's kingdom after a lengthy sojourn with his Dwarf comrade Gimli son of Gloin. The two had originally planned to take a short cut to their own lands through Fangorn Forest but in the way of many an intended shortcut, they'd ended up travelling even further than expected. Gimli had not approved at all; Legolas' letter contained a jocular account of the Dwarf's incessant complaints about being stuck with an Elf belatedly stricken with wanderlust.

With his time of abiding in Middle-earth drawing ever closer to an end, Elrond had decided to accompany his sons to the woodland realm for possibly the last time. The presence of the Halflings, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, was due to the former's new interest in elven history. Merry had gone to Rivendell with the intention of doing research and Pippin, as was his wont, had kept him company.

But when they got wind of the planned trip to the great forest now known as Eryn Lasgalen, they'd begged to come along. They'd heard something of their Wood-elven friend's home and wished to visit it. Elrond could think of no reason to refuse them.

Now seasoned travellers, the two Hobbits had no trouble at all keeping up with their Elven companions. If anything, their excitement as the party descended the eastern face of the mountains increased and continued to do so as they neared the border of the forest.

They followed the elven path as of yore, 30 leagues through thick but no longer unwholesome growth. The forest had been cleansed after the defeat of Sauron's minions in the north. Evidence of the battles that had taken place beneath the ancient eaves showed in deeply scarred trunks, scorched not yet re-grown brush and the unsightly stumps of felled trees. But despite the injury done to the forest, there was no longer the lingering sense of evil and pestilence that had once blackened its name. It was largely restored to the Greenwood the twins had first known all of close to three thousand years ago.

The Hobbits, busy with a thousand and one questions regarding their destination, nearly passed the sudden turn into the hidden path. Their exuberance, slightly dampened by the near miss, rose once more as they followed the trail. Finally, after another 30 leagues, they came to the tunnel formed of living trees.

Between one blink of the eye and the next, they were surrounded by Elven archers all clad in green and brown not unlike Legolas' raiment. The Hobbits looked up at the sound of a slight rustle and gasped. Perched easily in the branches of the great trees were more archers.

Merry and Pippin looked around them fearfully. Then they realized something with a jolt. Though the archers held their bows ready, none had made a move to threaten them.

From behind the first two trees forming the tunnel, two sentries suddenly emerged. Merry stared at them, wondering how he could have failed to see them. The sentries approached and bowed reverently before Elrond and his sons before speaking.

"My lords, his Highness will be very pleased. He has been awaiting your arrival most eagerly."

The three Elf-lords smiled their acknowledgement. The sentry stepped back. Elrohir motioned to the Hobbits to take the lead. The Hobbits' ponies, however, shied at entering the dark beneath the trees. One sentry quickly reached out his hands to them.

Stroking the ponies, he said soothingly to the frightened beasts, "Do not be afraid. We shall soon be in the sun once more."

The ponies calmed down at once much to the Hobbits' relief and followed the sentry into the shadows of the tree-wrought tunnel. Soon they emerged into bright sunlight and the vast clearing and rushing stream lay before them. As did the delved royal halls and the bridge before it, a small group of Elves... and a most familiar figure.

The Hobbits gave a cry of recognition and, unmindful of protocol, leaped down from their ponies to fly into Legolas' arms. The archer laughed as he found himself with two armfuls of joyful Hobbits.

"Well met, my friends," he said. "This is a surprise. The twins did not inform me that you would be coming with them."

"'Twas a sudden decision," Elladan explained as he replaced the Hobbits in his friend's welcoming hug. "They badgered _Adar_ from dawn till dusk for nearly a sennight. How could he deny them?"

Legolas chuckled. Yes, that did sound like what these two would do. He turned to Elrohir. At first sight of the younger twin, his blue eyes turned markedly warmer.

"I have missed you, _meldiren_"—my friend—he murmured as he caught the warrior in a hearty embrace. "'Tis good to see you again."

Elrohir regarded him with mingled affection and amusement. "I would have thought you too busy to miss anybody what with your extended wanderings. Surely Gimli kept you entertained."

Legolas snickered. "Aye, and oft unwittingly at that."

"I heard that!"

Another familiar figure came into sight. A moment later, he disappeared beneath two obviously overjoyed Hobbits.

"Hey there!" Gimli bellowed. "Have a care, you little rascals! I did not live through the war just to be smothered by two over enthusiastic Halflings!"

"Pardon us, Master Gimli," Merry laughed. "We are only so happy to see you again."

"Hmmph. You'd think we hadn't seen each other in a century rather than a year," Gimli growled. But the Dwarf's eyes twinkled with pleasure just the same.

Legolas drew back the Hobbits' attention, his arm still firmly wrapped around Elrohir's waist. "Come, you two must meet my father, brothers and sister." He gestured behind them.

Merry and Pippin spun around to behold a majestic Elf welcoming Elrond. Thranduil, Elvenking of the woodland realm, always cut a resplendent figure even when he tried not to. He and Elrond, side by side, made quite a striking picture, especially with their contrasting golden and midnight tresses.

The Hobbits goggled as Legolas presented them to his father. They just managed to make the proper replies to Thranduil's kind greeting, barely registering the two handsome _ellyn_, or male Elves, called Melthoron and Brethildor or the beauteous _elleth_, or Elf-maid, named Nimeithel.

Merry and Pippin bore expressions of shock and chagrin. They glared at Legolas almost accusingly.

"This is so embarrassing!" Merry exclaimed. "In all our journeying together you never bothered to tell us that you are a prince!"

"I did not think it was important," Legolas smiled, his eyes bright with merriment.

"And here I thought you a trifle over-pompous during Strider's wedding wearing that circlet-thing on your head!" Pippin laughed. "A pair of proper dimwits, that's what we are, Merry."

"I will not contest that," Legolas grinned. "Particularly since Frodo and Sam knew."

The Hobbits groaned. Sam would never let them hear the last of this if he ever learned of their ignorance.

A moment later, they were treated to another shock. Hardly had Elladan paid his respects to Thranduil and his older sons when he swept Nimeithel into his arms and kissed her with such ardor that it reduced the Halflings and Gimli to gaping, wide-eyed wonder.

Not that Nimeithel was any less discomposed. Catching the alarmingly raised eyebrows of her sire and Elrond's resigned roll of his eyes, she blushed deeply and hastened to check her lover's much too forward behavior.

"Please, _Eledhiren_, a little propriety is demanded," she murmured.

Elladan's resulting scowl disconcerted her further.

"Propriety? Since when have you turned so modest?" he demanded.

"Only in their presence," she amended.

"Hmm, that will be difficult to do considering what I look forward to _knowing_ once more," he wickedly purred. "The rich honey of your mouth, the pillow softness of your bosom, the sweet cleft between your—"

"Hush!" Nimeithel felt her cheeks burn at this increasingly graphic enumeration of her charms. Charms Elladan had tasted many a time and with never abating relish. "You are wicked to speak of such things here!" She managed to calm her suddenly racing heart. "Later, when – when we are alone..."

Elladan's near blazing gaze promised her a most fearsome reckoning.

oOoOoOo

The evening meal was an altogether merry one in its informality and exclusivity. There was much to catch up on and every tale was duly recounted and avidly listened to. Even acid-tongued Melthoron managed to temper his acerbity enough to be considered pleasant company. And had the passage of time sharpened Brethildor's mind? He actually managed to engage the brethren in rapt conversation and, for the formerly slow-witted warrior prince, that was a feat indeed.

One person, however, had to struggle to keep her composure as the meal progressed. Nimeithel strove to maintain a decorous manner but the effort was rendered almost futile when a pair of slate blue eyes kept alighting on her with rapacious intent.

Elladan looked fit to eat her alive each time he so much as glanced in her direction and Nimeithel nervously acknowledged that had they been alone, he would have done just that. She did not mind his lustful regard in the least but it simply would not do to behave like a wanton in front of her family. They'd already flouted the rules of decorum when they'd greeted each other with more than seemly affection. Best not to push the boundaries of tolerance too far. After all, none knew of her trysts with the Elf-lord and she preferred it remained that way if only to avoid unpleasant confrontations with her over-protective father and brothers. And so she smiled demurely, turned her attention to the others and cast her eyes down prudently now and anon lest her lover's gaze rattle her more than it already had. Elladan smiled grimly and played along, adroitly joining in the discussions all the way to the end of the meal.

Afterwards, she begged leave to return to her quarters whilst the males continued with their various discussions. Elladan rose as she passed him by and, with a seemingly gallant smile, took her hand and pressed a courtly kiss to it. But a rakish flick of the tip of his tongue virtually seared her flesh and left her near gasping. She colored then and looked up swiftly to see if the others had noticed but all were too busy talking to pay much attention to so fleeting a gesture. That is save for Elrohir.

The Elf-knight knew his brother all too well and had anticipated just such an action. He grinned now at the flustered Elf-princess, the smile imbued with equal parts sympathy and mischief. Nimeithel groaned inwardly. She would not be able to count on Elrohir to keep his twin in line.

She did not go at once to her chamber but lingered for a spell in the garden where she attempted to attain a modicum of calm. Only when her pulse slowed down to near normal did she make her way to her rooms.

But as soon as she stepped into her chamber she was bodily thrust against the near wall whilst Elladan slammed the door shut with an impatient kick. Before she could speak or even think for that matter, she found her lips under sensual assault as the Elf-lord made good his silent threat earlier in the day. She moaned as his pillaging mouth left scarlet marks upon her throat and shoulders, gasped as her skirts were hauled up to bare her to her waist and cried out as he lifted her and took her hard right there against the wall.

She hung on in dazed rapture, her slender legs wrapped around his waist, nearly keening with every thrust into her body. In all the times they'd coupled, he'd never been less than gentle. But this was fast, fierce and earthshakingly fervent. Elbereth! This was... bliss! Culmination left her limp and sated and she all but collapsed into his arms.

It took her several minutes to recover after so explosive an encounter. Elladan was not above taking advantage of her post-coupling languor to bear her to the bed and divest her and himself of every stitch of clothing. She hissed as he drew her flush against his formidable form, feeling the evidence of his still rampant desire for her against her belly.

"I cannot believe you did that," she murmured a little breathlessly.

'What did you expect?" he chided mildly. "You have been teasing me to distraction since we arrived."

"I was not teasing you," she protested half-heartedly. "Decorum—"

"Decorum be hanged," he growled. "You are fortunate I hold your father in such high esteem. Otherwise..."

A thrill snuck up her spine. "Otherwise...?"

Elladan leaned closer, his lips a mere inch from hers. "Otherwise, he would have learned a whole new meaning to the word "feast."

Nimeithel's eyes widened with mingled elation and horror at the image that conjured.

"You wouldn't," she whispered.

"Care to find out?" he challenged, a salacious tongue swipe against her lips all but undoing her. He smirked as her cheeks turned scarlet and her breathing quickened once more. "I thought not."

Whereupon he proceeded to rediscover her body more thoroughly leaving her adrift in the happy wreckage of her scattered wits.

A few days later, it was Elladan who had his wits scattered.

The fifth morning after their arrival, the twins challenged Legolas to an archery match. While awaiting his brother, Elrohir passed the time talking with the prince and Gimli in the main hall of the delved palace. The conversation soon turned to the Elf-prince and Dwarf's plans for the future.

"We promised Aragorn that we would return to Gondor and help in the rebuilding of the kingdom," Legolas explained. "With father's permission, I hope to bring some of our people south and settle in Ithilien."

"And I desire to return to Aglarond," Gimli added. "After we've repaired the gates of Minas Tirith, of course."

"We?" Elrohir inquired.

Gimli affirmed: "I will bring many of my kin south. There is much to keep a Dwarf busy down there."

Elrohir nodded then commented to the prince: "You said you would return to Gondor to help Estel. Yet in the same breath you spoke of settling in Ithilien. Does this mean you will no longer call Greenwood home?"

Legolas looked about him with a sentimental air. "I will still come back for visits but, aye, Ithilien may well become my new abode." He regarded the warrior curiously. "And you? What will happen to Imladris after your father leaves?"

"It will be as it always has been," Elrohir replied. "Elladan and I have no intention of changing what our father wrought."

Gimli nodded. "Does this mark the end of journeying for you then?"

Elrohir paused a moment then shook his head. "For Elladan mayhap but not for me." He looked at Legolas. "You are not the only ones who desire to help Gondor. I will offer my services to Estel in whatever capacity he may need me. Soldier, counsellor or brother – it will not matter."

"Then we shall still see each other often enough," Legolas smiled.

Elrohir's eyes glittered. "Often but not nearly enough," he softly replied. "I will still need to attend to my duties in Imladris. A half-year is all I may have in Gondor each time I travel south."

"Yet Ithilien is but a two-day gallop from Minas Tirith," Legolas reminded him. "Why should we not be able to meet frequently?"

"'Tis not mere distance alone that has kept us apart in years past," Elrohir pointed out. "Duty and circumstances can be as divisive. And with Gondor still licking its wounds, we can expect less time for personal desires."

Legolas frowned. "I cannot deny that," he conceded. "All the more will we need to strive to ensure that we come together as often as possible."

He did not see the flicker of speculative amusement in Gimli's eyes at his unwitting double entendre. But Elrohir did and he smiled wryly at the observant Dwarf.

"I will do my best, Calenlass," he said, his argent eyes gleaming.

Gimli hid a smirk behind his beard.

At that moment, Elladan arrived with the Hobbits in tow. The three Elves headed for the archery yard whilst Gimli happily joined Merry and Pippin for a hearty afternoon repast.

While the royal kitchens soon rang with the jolly songs of two satisfied Hobbits and one stuffed Dwarf, the archery yard resounded with the applause of numerous spectators as three of the comeliest Elves to walk Arda engaged in friendly competition.

Neither of the twins thought they could best the woodland prince in this sport. As Elrohir had foretold long afore, Legolas had become the most renowned archer in all Elfdom. There were precious few now who could match his skill with the bow, much less better it.

The twins were counted among these few but they were not sanguine that they could always keep up with their friend. If they challenged the prince it was because so peerless an opponent was what the two warriors sought in the never-ending task of honing their weapons skills.

After the bout, the three walked back to the pavilion for the evening meal. As they made their way down down the tree-lined path, Elladan noted how frequently Legolas would place a hand on Elrohir's arm or shoulder, even snaking his arm around the younger twin's waist here and then. It was almost a habit with him, this tendency to touch or hold the Elf-knight.

_By Elbereth, does he not realize how telling his actions are?_ Elladan pondered anew the prince's egregious unawareness – or was it denial? – of his patently un-platonic demeanor with Elrohir. Whether he accepted it or not, it was blatantly apparent that Legolas nursed a strong physical attraction to the Elf-knight at the very least.

Elladan mentally shook his head. It was all he could do not to openly decry his friend's continued blindness to what had already become apparent to others who took the time to observe Elrohir's manner with him. Did Legolas not even wonder at the reason behind Elrohir's decision to offer his services to Estel?

Elladan had been caught entirely by surprise when his brother informed him of it during the archery match. Surprised by the suddenness of it but not the motive behind it. For how else could his brother remain in reasonable touch with his binding-mate? His deplorably incognizant binding-mate, the older twin thought with a touch of exasperation.

He watched as Legolas unthinkingly slipped his arm around Elrohir's waist when they entered the royal dining chamber. He caught his brother's eye.

Elrohir's answering smile was muted but conveyed a world of feeling to his twin. Elladan thought to himself that if and when his brother finally made his move, Legolas would feel the storm-force of it before he ever saw it coming. Elladan stifled a treacherous snicker. He had to admit, it was this image of a wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed, utterly dumbstruck archer that kept his occasional annoyance with said archer from boiling over.

Dinner commenced as always with little formality and much conversation. Elladan had just lifted his drinking cup to his lips when Thranduil addressed him.

"And just what are your intentions regarding my daughter, Elladan?" he questioned severely.

The older twin nearly choked on his wine. He gasped and stared at the king in shock. Across the table, Nimeithel dropped her fork with a clatter, her face flooding with color at her father's unexpected utterance. Around the table, silence descended upon the proceedings as the others awaited the outcome of this sudden inquiry.

Elladan hastily pulled himself together. "My intentions have never been less than honorable," he said, darting a glance at Elrond.

To his dismay, Elrond looked as stern as Thranduil. Surely his own sire did not doubt him?

"Yet I have yet to hear of them though you have already dealt with the reason for which you delayed stating them so long," Thranduil pointed out. "Understand this, Elladan, I bear you no ill-will but neither can I allow anyone to trifle with my daughter's feelings."

"_Ada!_" Papa!

"I do not!"

"Hush, _iell_. Do not what, Elladan?"

"I have never trifled with Nimeithel's feelings," Elladan said somewhat heatedly. "I love her and if she will have me, I would take her as wife!"

Nimeithel's gasp resounded through the silent chamber.

"Is that a proposal?" she half sputtered in her shock.

Elladan stared at her then looked back at the King. What in Arda—? Thranduil was grinning! And so was Elrond!

He glared at them, comprehending how neatly they had tricked him into declaring himself. He became aware of Nimeithel's continued disbelieving gaze. A perverse need to get back at their wily sires surged into reckless being.

"Aye, it is," he conceded, rising from his place. He walked around to the speechless princess. He pulled her to her feet, casting a challenging glower at his father and hers. "And I will not take nay for an answer."

Nimeithel needed several seconds to recover herself. When she finally did, the significance of Elladan's words registered on her. With a soft cry, she flung her arms around him and began to half-weep and half-laugh against his shoulder.

"I take it that means yes?" he grinned.

Still unable to say a word, she vigorously nodded. With that, Elladan sealed his lips to hers. And pried hers apart. And suckled them. And swept past them to plunder the sweetness within. By the time, he released her she was rosy with sheer pleasure and outraged modesty and yet another bout of silence had blanketed the company.

The Hobbits and Gimli were even more thunderstruck than they'd been when they'd witnessed their passionate reunion. Melthoron and Brethildor and the latter's wife seemed to suddenly find their drinking cups inordinately fascinating. And Elrohir and Legolas were manfully holding back what looked to be the beginnings of a raucous spate of mirth. But as for Elrond and Thranduil...

Elrond simply bowed his head and raised a hand to his temple, the picture of unsurprised acceptance of the inevitable. Thranduil, however, was no longer amused and indeed looked about ready to unsheathe his sword and pounce upon his future son-by-law. Satisfied with his handiwork, Elladan promptly drew his new betrothed into another kiss.

Elrohir got him out of the dining chamber before the Elvenking threw diplomacy and restraint to the four winds and did him bodily harm.

oOoOoOo

The day after Elladan's unconventional marriage proposal, Elrond and Thranduil found themselves sauntering along the path behind the royal stables, headed for one of the tributary streams of the Forest River. They spoke reminiscently of the days when their children were young and untouched by the vicissitudes of life. And still innocents in every sense of the word.

As they neared the stream they heard the sounds of glee and laughter. Soon they came upon the source of merriment.

The twins and Legolas had invited the Hobbits and Gimli for a swim. Gimli had declined and was stretched out beneath a tall elm, snoring the morning away. But Merry and Pippin had accepted with alacrity and even now frolicked in the water with enviable abandon. Their horseplay drew cheers and hoots from their Elven companions.

Thranduil and Elrond came to a stop to watch the scene before them unfold, their earlier conversation forgotten. The two Elvenlords observed their sons thoughtfully.

"So, we are to be more than allies, Elrond," Thranduil remarked. "We are to be kin."

"I count it an honor, Thranduil," Elrond said.

The king smiled. "As do I. Though I must say I never imagined it would come to this. Ithilwen would have been pleased."

Elrond smiled as well. "We are both blessed in this. Indeed, 'tis a joy for me to witness the happy unions of two of my children. If only..." He sighed, suddenly melancholic. His eyes drifted to his younger son. "I will not be here to see him come to his desire," he said wistfully.

Thranduil regarded the younger twin as well. "Aye, it will not be answered so soon. Legolas can be, to put it mildly, willful when he decides on something. 'Tis a difficult road Elrohir has chosen to follow. My heart goes out to him."

Elrond glanced at the Elvenking. The usually icy blue eyes looked back, warm and compassionate.

"So you have discerned who holds Elrohir's heart," he murmured. "And would you object should he win Legolas' love?"

Thranduil shook his head. "Your sons are as dear to me as my own," he replied. "To have both of them as kin – 'tis twice the blessing for me."

"But your people? Would they object?"

"Some may should this happen in the immediate future. But they cannot stop the tide of change in our realm; particularly change that merely entails accepting what we have always been. Even now I hear that bindings take place in this kingdom though always in secret. Old habits die hard but sooner or late my people will return to the ancient path. More likely sooner."

He looked at Elrond musingly. "I never aggressively abetted my people's divergence from the path as my father did."

"But you did not stop it either."

"Nay, I did not. I understood the need for it. I doubt this kingdom of mine would have survived the ages otherwise."

"But now?"

"The return is inevitable. Once reawakened, there can be no stopping what is after all inherent in all of us." He pursed his lips ruefully. "But as to the heartache and suffering our repression of the ancient ways caused—" Thranduil sighed. "I have no answer to that. I only did what I thought best for my people."

"They love and revere you," Elrond smiled soothingly. "That is more than ample evidence that you have been the king they needed. Do not dwell on what you believe to have been your errors but learn well from them instead."

"Spoken like a true loremaster," Thranduil chuckled softly.

He glanced at Elrohir once more. The Elf-knight was surreptitiously regarding Legolas with more than ordinary warmth. His oft-stern eyes softened as he observed the younger twin.

"I have never said this to you, Elrond, but methinks 'tis time I did," he commented. "When I first learned of Nimeithel's love for Elladan, I was ready to accept him as my law-son should he choose my daughter as wife. Now I can say I will be more than proud to have you as my kinsman through their espousal. But I also hope and pray that there will yet be another link between our houses that will strengthen our ties even further."

Elrond's eyes flashed with pleasure and gratitude. "Then we are in accord over this matter," he said. He nodded in Elrohir's direction. "Your words hearten me, Thranduil. I feel less burdened knowing that you approve of his love. The Valar willing, mayhap he will win it before long."

"Aye, that he may, the Valar willing," Thranduil agreed.

oOoOoOo

After a month's stay, the Hobbits informed their hosts that it was time for them to return home. Their services were needed in the Shire, which was recovering quite spectacularly from Saruman's brief incursion.

On the eve of their departure, Gimli surprised everyone by announcing that he would accompany them. That it was no whimsical pronouncement was proven when he showed up the following morning, all ready to go.

"Take care, my friends," Legolas said to the Hobbits as they gathered by the stone bridge before the great doors of the cave. "The Dark Lord may be no more but Orcs still spawn in the deeps of the mountains."

"They will be safe," Gimli assured him. "I shall see to that."

"Then you are determined to travel with them?" Thranduil asked.

"Aye. I find I yearn for some adventure."

Pippin chuckled and added, "Not to mention the beer at The Golden Perch in Stock. The best beer in the East Farthing!"

Legolas and the twins laughed while Thranduil and Elrond stared at the Dwarf in disbelief.

"You would travel miles out of your way just for beer?" Elrond said.

Gimli turned a dark red.

"Farewell, then," Elladan smiled.

"For now," Merry grinned.

After a bit of a tussle getting Gimli up behind Pippin on the latter's sturdy pony, the three called out their last goodbyes and rode away over the bridge. Legolas sighed as they disappeared from sight.

He turned to Elrohir and said: "I am glad you agreed to stay on until autumn."

Elrohir smiled. "When have I ever refused you, Calenlass?"

"You, Elrohir? I cannot recall a single moment," Legolas said with some amazement. "You spoil me, _gwador_. I am not complaining in the least but I will admit to awe that you should treat me so generously. More than ever, I look forward to seeing you in Gondor."

Elrohir fell silent as he seemed to contemplate some matter of great import. His manner disconcerted Legolas, so used was he to his friend's enthusiasm in anything that afforded them the chance to be together. He'd expected an immediate and overt response from him.

"You do not seem all that... eager," he murmured, sounding rather put out.

"But I am," Elrohir demurred.

Legolas looked entreatingly at him. "It means much to me that you shall be close by even if only for a half-year at a time," he said. "I hope you feel as I do, Elrohir."

The twilight eyes gleamed. A warm smile curled the younger twin's lips. The archer felt his unease seep away under the familiar tender regard.

"More than you know, Legolas," the Elf-knight softly said. "So much more."

oOoOoOo

And so it came to pass.

Gimli brought south a part of the Dwarf-folk of Erebor, and he became Lord of the Glittering Caves. He and his people did great works in Gondor and Rohan. For Minas Tirith they forged gates of _mithril_ and steel to replace those broken by the Witch-king. Legolas also brought south Elves out of Greenwood, and they dwelt in Ithilien, and it became once again the fairest country in all the westlands. (0)

Glossary:  
laer – Sindarin for summer  
Adar – Father  
Eledhiren – my Elvenlord

iell – daughter  
gwador – sworn brother

(0) Abridged passage from LoTR: Return of the King, Appendix A, Chapter III: Durin's Folk.

The End

**Part 21:** Calenlass: Heart of a Prince – A steadfast warrior decides he's had his fill of waiting and sets out to capture his beloved prince's reluctant heart. Rating: M


	75. Calenlass 1 Unspoken

**Warning:** Once again, I would just like to state that this is slash fiction and while I adhered as closely as possible to the canon timeline and storylines obviously the same cannot be said for some of the relationships or customs recounted herein. I seldom consulted sources outside of the three main books – _The Silmarillion_, _The Hobbit_ and _LotR_ – because I found the surfeit of details rather tortuous and sometimes even contradictory. Therefore please do not proceed any further if the subject matter or this take on Prof. Tolkien's work offends or disturbs you.

**Rating:** M for sexual content

**Summary:** A steadfast warrior decides he's had his fill of waiting and sets out to capture his beloved prince's reluctant heart.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**AN:** First story in the series set in the Fourth Age. According to tradition, the Dúnedain passed on when their heirs reached ninety years of age. If Aragorn's son, Eldarion, was ninety at the time of his father's death, obviously he wasn't born until nearly thirty years after his parents' wedding. But the date of his birth is not stated in the books and so I've taken the liberty of having it occur much earlier.

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Prologue: Unspoken  
Gondor, _Gwaeron_ F.A. 1  
The Queen of Gondor gently lifted her firstborn son from his cradle. Smiling with maternal pride and joy, Arwen Undómiel turned to the four Elves who watched her with indulgent smiles.

The older of her twin brothers peered at the face of his newborn nephew. Elladan shared a chuckle with his wife, Nimeithel. "He looks like you, Arwen. What say you, Legolas?"

The youngest prince of Northern Eryn Lasgalen, the great forest once known as Mirkwood, stepped forward and gazed at the babe. The child was raven-haired like his parents and very fair. Legolas thought he did have a strong resemblance to Arwen.

"Aye, he is more like an Elf than a human child."

"That must irk Estel that his heir looks so little like him," Elrohir remarked much to his siblings' amusement.

He bent to get a closer look. At that moment, the babe focused his gaze on him. The infant's eyes widened at the sight of the raven-haired lord. With a gurgle, he insistently reached out to his uncle.

Taken aback, Elrohir glanced at Arwen with raised eyebrows. With a soft laugh, she handed her babe to her brother. He cradled the child in his arms.

"Well met, Eldarion," the Elf murmured.

As if in response, the infant prince grasped at the raven hair that spilled over the Elf's shoulders. He then broke into a wide toothless smile.

Arwen's eyes widened. "Why, that is the first time he has ever smiled," she observed. "He has obviously taken to you, Uncle Elrohir."

"I am glad," Elrohir grinned.

"Like father, like son," Elladan chuckled. "You may very well have him following you about some day, _gwanneth_, just as Estel did," he added.

"I will not mind," Elrohir smiled. He stroked the curved ridge of a tiny ear with his finger and laughed when Eldarion cooed with pleasure.

"You will if he comes to think of you as his pet and insists on knowing your every thought and move," Elladan warned with a smirk. "Or even worse, dictates what you can or cannot do."

"You have a gift with children," Legolas said. "They always respond to you in just that way."

"'Tis a response worth having even if it is but from a babe," said Elrohir softly.

Legolas glanced up at him. There had been something in his friend's tone that he could not quite place.

Elladan reached out and clasped a hand on his twin's shoulder. Legolas noted that the older twin seemed to squeeze his brother's shoulder comfortingly and wondered why.

"'Tis a pity your _adar_ could not be here to see him, _gwanur_," Nimeithel said to Arwen. "He would have been very proud to call him grandson."

Arwen smiled a little sadly. "I had hoped he would stay on a little longer," she admitted to her law-sister, "to at least see this first grandchild."

Elrohir shook his head. "It would have been yet another loss to bear, _muinthel_"—sister—he said. "I think _Ada_ did not wish to know and love his grandchild only to be parted from him at the last."

Arwen sighed a little mournfully in agreement.

Nimeithel sought to dispel the pensive mood she had inadvertently introduced. "I would remind you of your promise to come to Imladris this _Ivanneth_, Arwen," she said. "It will be the twins' first begetting day celebration since your father's departure."

The Queen brightened. "Most assuredly, Estel and I will be there. We would not miss it even should all the Orcs of Middle-earth stand in our path! And we shall bring Eldarion with us. I cannot bear to be parted from him overlong. Do you know he already has several offers of marriage?" she suddenly giggled. "And him but a babe!"

Legolas shared a chuckle with Elladan. "I wonder how Estel will choose for him one day," the older twin said. "It will be no small feat I imagine."

"We have agreed that he will marry for love and not just political expediency," Arwen said firmly. "'Tis inconceivable that my son should languish in a loveless marriage when his own parents were allowed their choice."

"He is fortunate then," Elrohir said. "He will have a surfeit of maids to choose from and mayhap will never know the travails of love. Would that all of us were so blessed."

Arwen looked at him with some surprise. "You are not your merry self, _tôr nîn_"—my brother—she said. "Is something wrong?"

The younger only smiled. "Nay, _thel neth_"—younger sister—he averred. "What could be wrong? I was merely remembering a time past when my life seemed so simple and straightforward." He pressed a gentle kiss to a petal-smooth cheek, causing Eldarion to snortle happily. He handed his nephew back to Arwen. "Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall return to my room."

With that he departed. Somehow, he left an impression that the time he spoke of had nothing to do with the age that had just passed. What he truly meant Elladan and perhaps Nimeithel seemed to know but neither was talking.

Glossary:  
Gwaeron - Sindarin for March  
F.A. - Fourth Age  
gwanneth – younger twin  
adar, Ada – father, Papa  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
Ivanneth - Sindarin for September

_To be continued_…


	76. Calenlass 2 Reunion

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I: Reunion  
Minas Tirith, _Nórui_ F.A. 20  
Legolas stepped out of his room in the pavilion housing the private quarters of the royal family in the Citadel of Minas Tirith. It had been many years since he had walked the High City's winding lanes for much of his time had been spent in the province of Ithilien.

As he had promised Aragorn, now King Elessar, he had brought south with him Elves of the Woodland Realm and established a haven in the region oft called the garden of Gondor. The Elves were restoring its beauty and grace even as they helped secure it against the last of the marauding Orcs and renegade Men of the fallen Dark Lord.

He had come to Minas Tirith for a special occasion that merited great celebration. It was in honor of the betrothal of King Elessar and Queen Arwen's only son, Eldarion, to the granddaughter of one of Gondor's most noble princes, Imrahil of Dol Amroth. The King and Queen had asked the Elven prince to attend the festivities. They had couched the invitation in language that made it clear they would not accept a refusal. And so Legolas had returned after an absence of nearly six years.

He made his way down the corridor, his feet hardly making a sound on the stone floors. He was dressed formally as the occasion demanded. With a circlet wrought of silver and gold woven together upon his fair hair and garbed in a knee-length, intricately embroidered aquamarine robe over a white silken under-tunic, finely knit dark grey hose and ankle high light shoes, he was a vision the likes of which was rarely seen in the realms of Men in these later days. It was in this wondrous guise that the two who came around the bend in the corridor first beheld him.

"Legolas! You are here!"

The Elf smiled at the nineteen-year-old prince who stared at him with delight. In him he saw much of his mother and glimpses of his father. He grinned as the young man hurriedly approached him and enclosed him in a warm hug. He glanced up and recognized the prince's companion.

"Elrohir!" he said with pleasure. "You have returned to Minas Tirith so soon, _mellon nîn_."—my friend.

"Aye," the younger twin replied, returning the prince's tight embrace. "Elladan and I would not miss our nephew's betrothal."

He was as breathtakingly beautiful as the last time Legolas had seen him during his latest visit to the City of the Kings. His stately raiment only further emphasized the comeliness of his face and form. He was arrayed in deep sapphire, muted silver and stark black, colors that went well with his long obsidian locks and twilight eyes. Attired as Legolas in the formal style of the Elves of Greenwood, one he and Elladan had avidly adopted millennia ago, he wore a short, open robe that did not conceal his lean, muscular frame or long and supple legs. On his head was a simple circlet of pure mithril, the only indication of his status as one of the twin Lords of Rivendell. But even without it, there was no mistaking that here was one who wielded great power in the court of Gondor.

"They did not tell us you had arrived," Eldarion said with a touch of pique. "Had we known we would have been the first to welcome you."

"I know, _pen neth_"—young one—Legolas said soothingly. "But I believe you were both busy with other matters and they thought it best not to disturb you."

"Nothing is so important that we could not lay it aside for a while to greet you," Eldarion said seriously. "Is that not so, Uncle?"

Legolas' heart warmed at the young man's words. He had watched the prince of Gondor grow from infancy to early manhood and was very fond of him. But it was Elrohir whom Eldarion positively adored and hero-worshipped just as his own father had done many years ago in Rivendell. Uncle and nephew were so close that Aragorn had been heard to occasionally complain that his heir would sooner listen to the Elf-twin than his own parents to which Elrohir would good-naturedly retort that he had been much the same and so had no right to grumble.

Legolas could understand their closeness. His own friendship with the boy's father had started and developed along the same lines though naturally with less intimacy than Aragorn had had with his foster brothers. It was a friendship that had outlived conflict and war and still prevailed in times of relative peace. But it was during the Quest of the Ring that it had come to its full strength.

The Quest. How long before the memories faded... Legolas swiftly brushed them aside. That was past and it was fruitless to dwell on it now. He turned his attention in full to the others and noticed the intent gaze Elrohir had trained on him.

"Your thoughts were elsewhere," Elrohir said softly. Legolas did not miss the ever so slight accusatory tone.

"Forgive me," Legolas apologized. "'Twas just that I was reminded of something else."

"The Quest," the darkling Elf said flatly. "You get that look on your face when that is on your mind."

Legolas looked at him a little surprised. Was there some bitterness there or had he imagined it? Before he could respond, however, a young maiden approached them hurriedly. She was very lovely and carried herself with the grace of one born into nobility.

"Eldarion, we have been looking for you!" she exclaimed. She stopped when she realized just whom the prince was with.

Eldarion grinned as he recognized the look of appreciation she gave the Elves. It never failed. Elrohir and Legolas had the kind of beauty that drew the eyes of men and women alike. She shyly smiled at Elrohir with whom she was already familiar but glanced at Legolas a little diffidently.

Eldarion hastened to introduce her to the Elven prince. "Legolas, this is my betrothed, the Lady Ilien of Dol Amroth. Lady, this is Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen." The Elves had to smile at the obvious pride and affection in the prince's voice. This was definitely a love match.

Ilien dropped into a deep curtsy, eyes lowered in deference. When she rose and spoke again, her tone had considerably altered to a more formal one.

"Highness, the King and Queen require our presence. My aunt and uncle have arrived from Rohan and wish to see us soonest."

The Elves' keen hearing detected the softest sigh from the prince. But Eldarion only said, "Of course, my lady, let us go then." He could hardly refuse to meet his betrothed's kinfolk, particularly when they happened to be King Éomer and Queen Lothîriel of neighboring Rohan. He glanced back at his uncle and the Elven prince. "I will see you later at the feast," he said.

After they had departed, Legolas grinned at his friend. "I hear that Arwen has been trying to talk you into marrying as well, _gwador_"—sworn brother—he teased. "I am told she has been parading a number of fair _ellyth_ for your inspection."

"Aye, but I have not found any to my liking."

Legolas' smile faded somewhat. "But what of your pledge? 'Tis now more than twenty years and you still have not bound yourself to an _Edhel_."—Elf.

"Do not worry about me, Legolas."

"But I do worry."

Elrohir gazed at him, his dark eyes so penetrating that Legolas, had he been a mere Man, might have flinched. As it is he held the gaze, his own never wavering. It was Elrohir's next utterance that caused him to break eye contact.

"And you, _ernilen_? I wager you have finally unshut your heart and found love."

"I did not," Legolas protested, startled by the unexpected statement.

"Very well, we shall not call it love if you find that discomfiting," Elrohir coolly said. "Let us say that your affections were finally engaged."

Legolas blinked at the suggestion. "And what makes you think they were?" he queried.

Elrohir snorted. "I know you well, Legolas. Do not insult me by denying what I have perceived in you."

The Elven prince hesitated. For a moment, his dark blue eyes seemed to lose focus as his thoughts dwelt on some distant memory.

"Mayhap you are right," he conceded.

"What came of it?"

"It was not meant to be."

"For someone who once renounced love for fear of its tribulations, you seem to have recovered nicely from this first incursion."

Legolas shrugged. "It hurt well enough at the time but I have since learned to cope," he replied. "I doubt I will feel the like again."

Elrohir considered the answer then nodded. Legolas wondered at his friend's sudden curiosity about the matter but Elrohir changed the subject before he could comment on this.

"Come, Elladan will be happy to see you as well." Without giving the other a chance to respond he turned and led the way to his brother's chamber.

"Is Nimeithel with him?" Legolas thought to inquire.

"Nay, your law-sister is near her time and Brethildor requested that Nimeithel stay with her until she gives birth."

Legolas grinned. "How is Elladan taking his enforced celibacy then?"

"Not very well at all," Elrohir replied, grinning back. "Estel has threatened to chain him to his bed if he disturbs his and Arwen's sleep one more time!"

The two shared a laugh over the older twin's problem as they made their way to his chamber.

oOoOoOo

The betrothal feast was everything a royal event should be. There was an abundance of food and drink, a dizzying number of important guests and the heralding of a political alliance that would strengthen Gondor even further. Add to that a Crown Prince who was obviously besotted with his fair bride-to-be and the awe inspired by the three noble Edhil and it was truly a memorable night. The only thing that did not quite seem apt for the affair was the demeanor of one member of the royal family.

The younger of the foster brothers of Gondor's king, who also happened to be one of his chief advisors, spent more time than was deemed proper with the Elven prince, Legolas. As the evening progressed, it became emphatically clear that he preferred his friend's company to any other's including that of the King himself, his sister, the Queen, his nephew, the heir of Gondor, and even his own twin brother. Legolas had to remind him time and again of his obligations.

At any other time the prince would have welcomed and enjoyed his friend's attention. But he was mindful of the demands of the occasion and did not think it wise that Elrohir should ignore them so flagrantly. He was not only Aragorn's kinsman and trusted counsellor, he was also a favorite of the Crown Prince and had great influence over the boy.

There were also many who sought an alliance with the King through an opportune marriage with members of the royal family. As his son was now betrothed, the next logical target was his unmarried Elf-brother since his daughters, the Princesses Eleniel and Romenna, were little more than youngsters and Elessar was of no mind to affiance any of his children without their consent. Therefore, it was imperative that Elrohir mingled with the guests even if he had no intention of wedding any of the fair maids imposed on his attention. The point was to establish advantageous political ties along the way.

Legolas became conscious of Arwen's constant glances in their direction. He knew that she looked to him to persuade Elrohir into doing his duty.

That did not puzzle him. He and Elrohir had always been very close. They had practically grown up together along with Elladan. Many were the tales that came out of Greenwood and Rivendell about the three Elves' adventures and misadventures. They had driven their respective fathers to distraction more times than either Elven sire cared to remember.

The friendship had never waned, not even when beset by crisis of various magnitudes. If anything it seemed to have gotten even stronger with each challenge to its foundation. Legolas had not expected matters to ever change.

But matters did change when Legolas removed to Ithilien and founded the elven colony of Eryn Gael. As Elrohir had predicted, circumstances had proven more of a deterrent to reunions than distance. They had last seen each other six years ago. Much of that time, Legolas had spent fighting once more.

It had been a period of conflict in the province.

Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, had trained all his forces on the eastern borders of his land, the region closest to once-feared Mordor. Legolas had lent his strength to Faramir's armies and spent the better part of the last several years fighting against Orcs, bandits and Easterlings still intent on extending their own borders into Gondor.

Elrohir had wanted to join him but troubles with Gondor's neighbors had necessitated his and Elladan's presence in Harondor in skirmishes against encroaching Haradrim. And of course, there were their sojourns in Rivendell where they still dwelt after their father, Elrond, passed to the West with the other Keepers of the Rings.

Mayhap his closeness to me now is his way of making up for those lost years, Legolas mused. Nevertheless, he could not let his friend upset the delicate balance of politics in Gondor. Elessar was beloved by the people but this was no guarantee that intrigue and infighting would not rear their ugly heads. As his foster brother, Elrohir had to help maintain that balance to ensure that his nephew's future succession would not be fraught with discontent and public disapproval.

Legolas was all too aware of the opinions of a good number of the kingdom's nobles. He knew that many whispered about his unusual closeness to the royal family despite his lack of kinship to them. He was not blind to the envy of those who sought greater influence upon Gondor's rulers and the suspicions of others who thought there was something sinister about an Elf being in such a position.

In Gondor, the Firstborn were no longer feared as they once had been but there were still many superstitions regarding their strange customs and powers. Because of their human heritage, Arwen and her brothers were not regarded with as much suspicion. Legolas, a pureblooded Elf, did not have that luxury.

This was the other reason that Legolas had absented himself from court for such a long period of time. He had not wanted to be the reason for such talk. By staying away, he had blunted much of the silent accusations that he was exerting undue influence on the King and the King's brother to whom Elessar turned for much counsel. Unfortunately, Elrohir's behavior tonight could very well undo much of the good his prolonged absence had secured.

"You really should speak with Lord Dervorin," he urged Elrohir. "He has been waiting to talk to you all evening."

Elrohir sighed. "I am weary of speaking to every lord and lady and saying the same things over and over again. You cannot imagine how tedious it can get."

Legolas smiled understandingly. "I know of what you speak. But 'tis your duty and you must attend to it. Come now, 'tis not as if you do not do this in Imladris!"

"Very well, but you must stay right here until I return."

Only upon securing Legolas' word did he finally make his way to the aforementioned noble. Legolas watched as the Elf-lord skillfully engaged the Lord of Ringlo Vale in conversation and exchanged witty repartee with any who sought his attention. He was so charming that many who had earlier resented his aloofness were now completely enthralled. He is a most potent and adept politician when he puts his mind to it, thought Legolas. A true son of Elrond.

He cast a glance at the King and Queen. Arwen caught his eye. She gave him a look that conveyed relief and gratitude. Legolas grinned back in reply.

He sympathized with Aragorn and Arwen. Elrohir had always been the more intractable twin. Even Elladan, for all his high spirits and love of mischief, had been reasonably tamed by the passing of the years and, later, by the calming influence of love. Not so Elrohir.

The younger twin was no meek and biddable Elf who did as he was told without question. Unless it was on the field of battle, one could not just tell him what to do; one had to justify one's order first.

He did not believe in holding one's tongue just to spare someone's feelings if that someone was a fool or a blackguard to begin with. More often than not, he would state his opinion even if what he had to say was not complimentary at best and too blunt to stomach at worst. How he still managed to be an excellent diplomat was a mystery that had yet to be fathomed.

He was also deeply passionate about things he cared for. Once he set his mind to something, it was difficult to dissuade him or rein him in.

Legolas smiled as he observed Elrohir smoothly but hastily rid himself of two overbearing lords, one fawning counsellor and a slew of flirtatious maidens. With an expression that would send even the most pugnacious Orc into hiding, the twin hurried back to his friend's side. Legolas laughed softly as the other grimly pulled him behind one of the great pillars that lined the sides of Merethrond, the Hall of Feasts, in a most obvious bid to avoid further attention.

"That was not too terrible now, was it?" he said.

"You are jesting! 'Twas worse than terrible!" Elrohir exclaimed. "Never have I had to listen to so many fatuous, boring, absolutely pointless inanities! I grieve for my poor nephew that he will some day have to bear thrice what I must endure."

Legolas chuckled. "The evening is still young, Elrohir," he pointed out. "Your duties are far from over."

The darkling Elf groaned. "Must you remind me?" He sighed. "The only saving grace in all this is your presence, Calenlass. I am truly glad you are back."

Legolas smiled. Elrohir had been the first and only one to use the pet name on him "I, too, am glad to be here. I have missed you, _meldiren_."—my friend.

Elrohir glanced at him. "I missed you, too," he said, his voice suddenly soft and wistful. "I wish you did not stay away so long."

"You know why I had to."

"Aye. 'Tis amazing how vicious people can be, thinking such thoughts about you. If they knew how much good you have done Gondor they would not be so quick to make judgments about you."

"Nay, they would be quicker."

The darkling Elf snorted. "They are fools to believe any evil of you," he said. "If they only knew how unhappy they make _me_ when their malice keeps you from here." He sighed pensively. "With my oath of service to Gondor, I can only rarely remain in Imladris with Elladan for more than half of each year and his visits to Gondor cannot be prolonged now that he is wed to your sister. When he leaves there is only you for with Estel king he cannot be the brother of our earlier days. Yet he cannot spare me overlong and I must remain ever at his side in these turbulent times. These past six years have been lonely ones, _ernilen_."—my prince.

Legolas frowned. "I did not realize you felt my absence so keenly," he said. "Had I known I would have come here now and then."

"Even with all the talk?"

"Aye, despite everything, I would have come. You are dear to me and I would not have you unhappy."

Elrohir smiled. "I only wish—" He stopped. "'Tis good of you to feel that way," he said.

Legolas had the odd feeling that was not what he been about to say. He noticed Aragorn signaling to him from afar that Elrohir was needed once more.

"Aragorn summons you," he told the other Elf. "I believe one of his nobles wishes to present his daughters to you."

Elrohir scowled. "Once more into the breach," he muttered. "You will wait here?"

Legolas smiled. "I will wait."

He watched the twin walk to the King and Queen. He grinned as Elrohir tried to wipe away his annoyance and affect a cheerful mien. From the smiles on everybody's faces, he was apparently successful and if one did not know him well one would think him merry and content. But the dark look he managed to cast in Legolas' direction indicated he was anything but.

It was way past the midnight hour when the festivities finally ended. The three Elves made their way back to their chambers.

"Estel says you are leaving tomorrow," Elladan said soberly. "Is this true?"

Legolas nodded. "I am needed in Ithilien."

"Yet you have just arrived and were away for so long," Elrohir said. "We had hoped you would spend the week with us before we returned to Imladris."

Legolas sighed. "If I could stay longer, I would. You know that, Elrohir."

Elrohir frowned. "Then I shall have to go to you instead," he stated. "When I return to Gondor I will visit you soonest."

"That will please me," Legolas smiled. He did not see the guarded glance Elladan cast at his twin.

They walked down the covered passageway that led to the royal pavilion. It forked at one point with the royal apartments on one side and the quarters of guests of high stature on the other. Just as Legolas was about to head for his own chamber, the younger twin gripped his arm suddenly. The prince glanced at him inquiringly.

"Legolas, I would speak with you tomorrow before you leave," he said

Legolas looked at him curiously. But he merely nodded before walking away. He did not sense the other's eyes on him or hear the deep breath he exhaled.

Elladan shook his head and placed an arm around his brother's shoulders as they walked on to their respective rooms.

"Why wait, _gwanneth_?"—younger twin?—he queried. "Why not tonight?"

Elrohir smiled faintly. "Let him have a good night's sleep," he said.

Elladan snorted in some amusement. "But he is returning to Ithilien tomorrow. There is no telling when you will meet again. It might be months or even a year or more."

Elrohir glanced at his twin. "He will likely find himself desiring the respite after our talk. And I am of a mind to let him have the time for it." His eyes gleamed darkly. "He will need it."

Glossary:  
Nórui - Sindarin for June  
Edhil – Elves  
ellyth – Elf-maids

_To be continued_…


	77. Calenlass 3 Parting Words

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Parting Words  
The following morning dawned bright and golden. But few among the betrothal feast guests awakened early enough to greet daybreak after the previous night's late-ending festivities. Legolas, however, rose as always with the sun and was soon dressed for the short trip back to Ithilien.

After a light breakfast, he went to the royal apartments and made his farewells to a still barely awake King and Queen, hastened to Elladan's chamber and bade him goodbye then went in search of Elrohir when his room turned up empty. When the younger twin was not to be found, he thought to visit his steed in the stables on the sixth level of the City before resuming his search for the Elf-lord. But Elrohir waylaid him as he reached the gate of the Citadel.

"I was just looking for you," Legolas said in relief. "Where were you?"

"Walking, thinking," Elrohir replied. "Can we talk in private?"

Legolas looked at him curiously, wondering at his veiled expression. When he nodded his acquiescence, Elrohir led the way down the winding main road to the lowermost level of the City and out onto the Pelennor. They hiked to the southern feet of Mindolluin, the high mountain just west of Minas Tirith against which outthrust knee the Guarded City nestled. The Hallows lay on its eastern flank.

Elrohir guided his friend up a steep path to a high field on the side of the mountain. From there they could survey the City and all the lands about it for leagues on end. Legolas breathed in the cool, clear air.

"'Tis here that Estel found the sapling of the white tree," Elrohir told him quietly.

Legolas looked at him in surprise. So, he thought, 'twas here that the sign was given that Aragorn's love would be granted. He sighed and his gaze focused on the vista before him. Elrohir watched him a while, studying his fine features, following the contours of his sculpted face.

"Legolas, I need to know," Elrohir said. "You and Estel—" He halted when the prince turned his eyes upon him. "You admitted to love," he continued. "It was Estel, was it not?"

Legolas was startled. "Why do you think that?"

"I have eyes, _ernil nîn_. Ever since the Quest you have changed in the way you regard him. 'Twas why you chose to live in Ithilien; why you swore not to depart these shores until he passes from this world. Am I right?"

Legolas looked uneasily at him, disconcerted to have been read so clearly. He turned his gaze away.

"Aye."

The answer was so soft Elrohir nearly did not hear it. "You have changed your course considerably for you to have felt something for him," he remarked.

"And why should that surprise you?" Legolas questioned. "'Twas you who led me down this path after all."

"And now Estel reaps what I have sown. 'Tis ironic, is it not, considering he was so attached to me as a child." Again that odd tinge of bitterness. "Were you intimate with each other?" he asked roughly.

His friend's eyes widened at the impertinence of the question. "Of course not!" Legolas rejoined, staring at the other.

"Why not?"

"He is no Elf!"

"Estel was raised in Imladris," Elrohir pointed out. "And he is of my uncle's line. Mayhap our duality slumbers in him. I doubt he would have looked askance at such a request."

"And have him betray Arwen? I think not," Legolas said frowningly, his puzzlement growing stronger. "I would not hurt someone I hold as dear as my own sister. Besides..." The archer let out a pensive breath. "Aragorn cared not for me in that manner. 'Twas always Arwen he yearned for, why he strove so hard during the Quest. He loves our Evenstar, make no mistake about that."

"I have no doubts about that," Elrohir said. "I could tell that his heart was ever my sister's else Elladan and I would have had more than mere words with him. But that he remained constant does not change the fact that _you_ loved him beyond the bounds of mere friendship."

His words recalled to Legolas the time when his own relationship with this son of Elrond had nearly unraveled. His cheeks colored somewhat. Elrohir saw this but did not halt in his queries.

"What made you care for him?"

Bemused and uncomfortable, Legolas was slow to respond. But under the Elf-knight's relentless gaze, he finally gave in and considered the question.

"I do not really know," he admitted. "We became very close after Boromir died and Merry and Pippin were taken. We spent nearly every waking minute in each other's company, striving to catch up with the Orcs, arriving in Rohan to an uncertain welcome. And at the Hornburg, we fought at each other's side, guarded each other's backs, as we had never done before. I would have died for him, as he would have for me. I simply felt something more for him than friendship allowed even if I knew he did not return it."

Elrohir's eyes narrowed. "And now?"

Legolas sighed. "It is past. I do not dwell on it."

"Yet I see your face at times and know you remember."

"One does not simply forget. Aragorn will always have a place in my heart." For a moment silence fell between the two. "Elrohir, why are you asking all these questions?" Legolas finally said.

The Elf-warrior let his breath out. "Because I need to know if you would open your heart to another," he said. At the other's astonished reaction, he drew a deep breath and added: "To _me_."

It was seldom that he witnessed Legolas so at a loss for words. The sapphire eyes widened in complete shock and the fine lips parted wordlessly. Some minutes actually passed before the archer found his tongue once more and even then it took several false starts before he finally found the wherewithal to utter something coherent. Had the situation not been so emotionally dire, Elrohir might have found it amusing.

"Sweet Eru," Legolas whispered at last. "What are you saying?"

"I love you, Calenlass _nîn_," the twin said bluntly. When Legolas looked at him in stunned disbelief and the obvious beginnings of denial, he added sharply, "Oh, I know what you think. I cannot compare with Estel. He was the Hope of the Dúnedain, the restorer of the Reunited Kingdom and the Elfstone of Gondor. Why should you even consider looking at me as you did him?"

He stopped abruptly when Legolas placed his fingers against his lips. The golden Elf's eyes were flashing angrily.

"Stop!" he commanded. "I will not have you demean yourself or Aragorn."

Elrohir snorted but did not continue his acerbic words. "I did not mean to do so. I only stated the truth," he said more quietly. "For so long had I believed that nothing would come of what I feel for you. Yet I could not stay away from you. Why think you did I make the choice to be of the _Edhil_? Why I have dwelt in Gondor as much as in Imladris? 'Tis not only my oaths that keep me here, Legolas."

This last was said with so much sorrow and the lingering shadow of despair that Legolas' anger swiftly faded.

"I do not know what to say," he said, his voice catching. "I-I am sorry."

"Do not apologize," the twin said. "You could not have stopped me from feeling as I do about you."

Legolas became aware of the no long hidden desire in Elrohir's eyes. He felt a shiver pass through his body.

It was the same desire he had seen in Elrohir's eyes so long ago, the desire that had nearly driven them apart had he not offered himself to assuage it. No one he had ever cared for had looked upon him with that same intensity of need. If there were others who had gazed upon him with as much hunger he felt no affinity for them and therefore did not care. But for Elrohir he had always cared and therefore had known the consequences of his wanting. Now it was happening again.

Legolas gazed anew at his closest friend. It did not seem possible that this should come to pass once more and yet here was the impossible before him.

The last time they had lain together was almost a century ago. Aragorn had been but a babe and since then they had not been intimate again. Indeed, Elrohir had seemingly resumed his promiscuous ways, cutting a carnal swathe through the remaining population of unbound _ellyth_ in Middle-earth and not a few females of Mortal-kind as well. The archer had thought his friend cured of his passion for him.

"I thought that such feelings no longer had hold of you," he said almost desperately.

"You wanted to believe that. I only pretended for your sake," Elrohir quietly admitted. "I have loved you for centuries uncounted, Calenlass. Think you I could set aside my love so easily?"

He waited for Legolas to recover from this revelation. "In truth, I was greatly tempted to be of Man-kind if only to end the torment of loving you and not having you," he confessed. "The urge grew particularly stronger before you left on the Quest."

Shock registered anew on the archer's face. He almost staggered under the weight of this alarming discovery.

"We-we nearly lost you!" he gasped in near horror.

Elrohir smiled sadly. "Nearly. 'Twas your plea after Arwen and Estel's wedding that made me reconsider my decision."

The archer could scarcely speak for his agitation. "Why did you not tell me before I left Imladris!" he demanded, momentarily diverted. "To think I left not knowing you might have made such a choice!"

"I did not wish to disturb your peace when you were embarking on such a perilous journey," Elrohir said. He paused, a pained expression flickering across his handsome features. "It was the hardest thing I have ever done, letting you go when I feared so greatly for your safety. In truth, harder than making my choice for 'twas your life that was at stake."

Legolas felt his eyes sting with sudden regret at this evidence of the depths of the Elf-knight's selfless regard for him.

"You should have told me," he insisted in a trembling voice.

"To what end?" Elrohir said. "You would have fled from me."

"Nay, I would not," Legolas protested. "I did not run from you when you first wanted me."

"Because you believed that 'twas mere desire that drove me then," Elrohir countered. "I cannot deceive myself that had you thought it more than desire, that had you seen that I had already begun to love you, that you would have stayed by me then."

Legolas shook his head, unable to accept the warrior's logic. "Nay, I would not have forsaken you even then," he objected. "I would not have held our friendship so lightly."

Elrohir's expression told him that, in this matter at least, his friend did not believe him. For the Elf-knight to so doubt him in turn made him unsure of his own assertions. Ever had Elrohir always accepted his word without question.

He drew in a shaky breath. "Whatever you may believe my response would have been, I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me."

Elrohir simply repeated his earlier statement. "You would have fled from me. You were not ready to open your heart to love. Not until Estel."

Legolas looked at him with confused eyes. "How did you—?"

"I told you, I know you well."

The Wood-elf floundered. "Ai, it must have pained you – I mean – Oh Elbereth, I am truly sorry! I never meant to hurt you, Elrohir."

"And I told you, no apologies," the warrior reiterated. "I know you would never have hurt me intentionally. Besides, after the initial pain, I realized that there was hope after all."

"Hope?" Legolas' eyes were wider than they'd ever been.

"Hope that if you had unshut your heart enough to care for him, then mayhap you would accept another love in his stead," Elrohir said.

The archer's sharp indrawn breath accompanied his suddenly flushed countenance.

"Why – why did you not c-come to me after—?" he virtually stuttered, befuddlement and the effects of shock overtaking his usual grace.

"Because your feelings were too fresh, your disappointment too recent," the twin gently explained. "But when I saw you yesterday I knew it was time I told you the truth. I wanted you so much it was pure agony trying to conceal it from you."

Legolas felt a quiver pass through his limbs when the twin came closer.

"Elrohir—"

The warrior said very softly. "I do not demand that you love me. I would not care for something forced. But I dare hope to yet gain it. All I ask is that you do not compare me with Estel."

Legolas felt a twinge of sympathetic pain at the other's request. "I have never compared you to him," he said earnestly. "You are Elrohir to me, no other; the dearest friend of my heart." Espying the pleasure in the other's eyes, he cautioned anxiously: "I cannot promise anything."

"Nor do I expect you to."

He swiftly closed the remaining distance between them and reached up his hand to cup the prince's face. Before Legolas could react, the dark-haired Elf caught his mouth in a tender yet heated kiss.

Legolas was shocked by the sudden thrill that ran through his limbs. The sensations he had thought long forgotten coursed through his veins with easy familiarity as if they had only lain dormant and now came alive again at Elrohir's touch. Unthinkingly, he responded and with that response found powerful arms enclosing him.

Elrohir deepened the kiss, compelling him to part his lips. Legolas could not suppress a needful moan as his mouth was gently pillaged, its reaches thoroughly tasted. He had not expected to feel such pleasure; had not imagined he would enjoy Elrohir's attentions once more and so readily at that.

He struggled for lucidity and, finding it, pulled away with a ragged gasp. But he knew it was too late. Elrohir had heard him and felt his response.

They stared at each other, one with chaotic confusion, the other with swiftly dawning exultation. Legolas saw the light in Elrohir's argent eyes. He suddenly felt a need to get away and put his turbulent thoughts and feelings in some semblance of order.

"I must go," he said shakily. "My people await me."

He turned to leave but Elrohir caught him by the wrist. He looked back and saw that the twin was gazing at him with barely suppressed elation.

"Safe journey then, _malthernil_"—golden prince—Elrohir said.

Of a sudden, he smiled and his smile reached out to the prince and ensnared him against his will.

"You will be mine, Legolas. I think you know that."

Legolas stared at him, his heart pounding as loudly as the drums of the Haradrim in battle. His breath quickened. Once again, he remembered the friend of years past who had known him far more intimately than any friend could or should possibly know.

He pulled his hand away and made his way down the path. But he could sense the eyes of Elrohir upon him and the sensation made him feel like a cornered stag at a hunt in Greenwood.

Glossary:  
ernil nîn – my prince  
Calenlass nîn – my Greenleaf  
Edhil – Elves  
ellyth – Elf-maids

_To be continued_…


	78. Calenlass 4 Shield Brothers

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III: Shield-Brothers  
Ithilien, _Cerveth_ F.A. 21  
Nearly a year later, in early July, a great host of Men crossed into Southern Ithilien. A small company detached itself and passed the boundaries of Eryn Gael, the elven colony in the province. Legolas, forewarned by his sentries, went to meet them in the large clearing before his halls.

The haven was a reminder of Eryn Lasgalen from the architecture of the dwellings to the green and brown raiment of its Elves. Every structure had been made to blend in with its surroundings whether at ground level or in the branches of the ancient trees. A stranger wandering into its midst could be forgiven for thinking himself lost in another world.

But while their lodgings looked much the same, other matters had changed significantly amongst the Silvan Elves, both in the colony and back in Greenwood. The War had forced them to mingle more often with the Eldar and they had since embraced many of the ancient traditions of their kindred including the inherent duality of their passions.

Amongst the Elves of Eryn Gael, this was further hastened by the influx of _Edhil_ formerly of Lothlórien. With the departures of their lord and lady, the Golden Wood had passed into legend. Many of its people had either journeyed West with Galadriel or joined Celeborn in his new realm of East Lórien on the southern bounds of Eryn Lasgalen.

But still others had chosen to cleave to the Wood-elves of Eryn Gael, attracted by the challenges a new life in the south presented. It helped that in Legolas they found a lord much to their liking. Like Celeborn, he understood their martial inclinations yet possessed unerring mastery over them. And they also found pride and solace in the presence of their former rulers' grandchildren, the younger twin, Elrohir, who oft made Gondor his home as much as Rivendell, and Queen Arwen herself.

Needless to say, the Lórien Elves' influence upon their new community was exceedingly efficient. It did not take long for the fearsome Galadhrim to rekindle in the Greenwood Elves the long-suppressed, dormant natures of their forebears when they first awoke by the ancient shores of Cuivienen.

But such a subtle though profound change was evident only to those of Elfkind. Man still had little or no inkling of the innermost workings of the elvish mind or the extent of elven passions save for a knowledgeable few such as the still extant Dúnedain of whom the Steward of Gondor and the ruling family of Dol Amroth were numbered.

Legolas quietly awaited the approach of the company of riders and foot soldiers. He stood alone but he was not alone for warriors and archers watched from behind trees and up in the branches, lethal and unseen. Even in lovely Ithilien, the habits of a lifetime of caution died hard.

Legolas' eyes narrowed as he recognized the banners of the King of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien. Aragorn and Faramir. He wondered what troubles had brought both men to him.

The company came to a stop before him. He smiled as the lead rider dismounted and neared him.

"Aragorn," he said simply for the King had insisted that he never address him in a more formal fashion. Aragorn clapped his hand on the Elf's shoulder; the gesture was returned. After their softly uttered greetings, Legolas turned to welcome Faramir as well.

As he spoke he turned his gaze upon the company and gave it a quick sweep. A pair of silvered eyes met his. He gazed at the rider questioningly. Aragorn noticed his expression and turned to see what he was looking at.

"Elrohir!" the king said. "I would have you join us, _gwanur nîn_."—my brother.

The Elvenlord dismounted gracefully and joined the three. When he reached them he simply nodded in greeting to Legolas. Aragorn looked at him with mild surprise.

"You astonish me, Elrohir," he remarked. "Ever have you been known to greet Legolas with much warmth and eagerness. Why are you so sedate now?"

Elrohir coolly replied: "It would not be seemly in front of our men."

Legolas stared at him curiously. There was nothing in the warrior's demeanor to indicate that he had practically upended Legolas' life and long-held beliefs but a year ago. Was it possible that Elrohir's sudden revelation then had been but a result of their long earlier separation? The Elf-knight had confessed to deep loneliness during that period. Mayhap he is now regretting his outburst and is uncomfortable with me, Legolas thought. It would certainly explain his uncharacteristic reserve with the Elf-prince.

After a year of worrying and wondering and waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, Legolas felt a wave of relief sweep through his body. Feeling much lighter, he gave his full attention to the matter at hand.

Faramir explained why they had come to the Elves. Through spies in Harad, they had learned that a massive force of Southrons was moving against Gondor. An enemy fleet of Haradrim and Corsairs had left Umbar and was sailing to the Bay of Belfalas. Its objective was to pass down the Anduin and come to Pelargir whence they would then ravage the surrounding countryside. Another force was coming by land. They had already broken the disputed borders of South Gondor and were moving north toward Ithilien. The Southrons were not bent on conquest; rather they were intent on extending their borders further into the north.

"They have grown bold anew," Legolas commented.

"They know we have been expending much of our strength in repulsing the remnants of Mordor's Orcs and minions," Aragorn said.

Faramir said grimly, "Not so much that we cannot fight off new foes. They will learn yet of their folly."

"What of the Rohirrim?" Legolas inquired. "Can they help?"

"Nay, the Dunlendings have been raiding their borders again. Éomer cannot afford to split his forces. We are alone in this."

"Not so alone. The Lord of Aglarond will be joining us with a contingent of Dwarves," Aragorn said.

Legolas' eyes lit up. "Gimli could never say 'no' to you, Aragorn."

"We plan to meet the enemy fleet at Pelargir," Aragorn continued. "Our forces are already amassing there. Elladan is with them right now as is my son. But that will leave Ithilien vulnerable. We were hoping you would help us in repelling the second force."

"Since when have I refused Gondor aid?" Legolas smiled humorlessly. "My warriors can march by dawn. Who will lead your army here in Ithilien?"

"Elrohir is their captain," Aragorn said.

Legolas glanced at Elrohir. "So, we fight together once more, _gwador_" —sworn brother—he remarked. "It has been a long time."

Elrohir said, "Aye, a long time indeed."

Assured of Legolas' help, Aragorn and Faramir rode away with only a few men. The rest of the company remained. Legolas saw to their quartering for the night before turning his attention back to Elrohir.

"Will you stay with your men or will I provide a room for you in my home?" he asked the Elvenlord.

Elrohir shook his head. "I will stay with them. After this conflict is over then mayhap I will accept the luxury of staying within your halls."

Legolas nodded. A good captain would not hie off to comfortable lodgings while his men made do with starker accommodations. Not when a battle was in the offing. He left to muster his own warriors.

Daybreak found them on the move. They had met up with the main body of Gondor's forces and the now formidable army marched to meet the invaders. Legolas' scouts had already discovered the whereabouts of the Southrons. They were attacking and pillaging small settlements as they moved northwards toward Ithilien.

"Treacherous swine," Elrohir snarled as his and Legolas' combined forces moved swiftly to intercept the enemy. "You would think that after Estel made peace with them in their last defeat, they would honor their own promises."

"Our recent skirmishes with other foes mark us as weakened in their eyes," Legolas remarked. "They think it an opportune moment to regain lost territory."

"They will rue this venture before long," the twin stated. "We must head them off before they get any further, Legolas."

"We will," Legolas replied. "There are many places where we can set up an ambush for them."

"You mean to take them by stealth."

"Stealth will keep the blood of our people from being spilled over much." He noticed the frown on Elrohir's face and was amused. "What would you do? Give them the chance to prepare for our attack?"

Elrohir had to grin. "Nay, I know 'tis the best way to deal with these scoundrels. But I will admit that I am more than eager to teach them some manners. Their concept of neighborly conduct leaves much to be desired."

Legolas chuckled at the twin's choice of words. "Patience, _roch vreg_. You will have your chance."

The prince suddenly urged his steed forward and Elrohir became aware that there were Elves among the trees. They came out fully as their lord approached and soon were making reports. Elrohir neared them and realized they were using the Silvan speech of the Wood-elves of which he knew very little.

He took the opportunity to observe his men's reactions to their Elven allies. In particular, their reactions to the Elf-prince who led said allies.

Curiosity and wonder were rife. That was to be expected. Faramir's people had oft fought side by side with the Ithilien Elves ever since the founding of the colony. But the men of Gondor had seldom come into contact with them and deemed them strange and not to be trifled with. Even their prince who had served their cause so valiantly more than twenty years ago was an object of speculation and wariness. Most had only seen Legolas from afar, some during the Great War, others when they chanced to glimpse him during his infrequent visits to Minas Tirith.

In battle gear, the Elf-prince was certainly an intriguing sight. The combination and contrasts of seeming fragility and tensile strength, of ethereal fairness against earthy leather and mail were fascinating at the very least. Elrohir knew all too well of Legolas' skill with bow or knife or sword but it had been long since he had witnessed his friend in action. He thought about it with a volatile mixture of anticipation and worry.

Legolas returned to his side. As they moved onwards once more, the prince recounted his scouts' reports to the Elvenlord. Accordingly they made their plans.

oOoOoOo

The Haradrim marched toward the borders of Ithilien with much confidence and hardly any caution. They had met minimal resistance along the way, preying as they did on scattered communities with little or no fighting men among the inhabitants. They were loaded with much booty and looked to garnering more in the rich province.

Recklessly they pressed on. They were headed towards the Crossing of Poros, the one section of the river that their forces could safely traverse. Once they crossed the ford, they would be in Ithilien itself.

The ford was by no means totally benign. Though the main passageway was shallow and firm of bottom, there were many treacherous spots. Places where the ground gave no support and sucked down whoever or whatever was unfortunate enough to tread upon them. Areas where the water suddenly rose higher and moved faster than expected to drown the unsuspecting. If one kept to the main crossing one was safe enough. Wander further away and there was no security of life or limb.

They approached the ford two days later soon after sunrise. The region was silent and empty in the early morning twilight. Encouraged by the lack of any visible signs of resistance, the Southrons began to cross. Only a lone birdcall disturbed the quiet. The van of the invaders soon made it to the other side. The enemy had broken Ithilien's borders.

The main body of the army proceeded to make its way across the ford. They were almost halfway through when another birdcall sounded.

As if from nowhere, a hail of arrows greeted the enemy forces. Chaos ensued. More arrows found their marks as the enemy floundered in the shallow waters. Horses whinnied in terror, bolted from the main path and plunged into soft, oozy muck to be sucked down dragging along supply carts or taking their riders with them. Foot soldiers, in an effort to evade the arrows, blundered into the deeper parts of the ford only to drown, weighed down by their armor and weapons. Screams of rage and fear filled the air as bodies began to pile up in the now tainted waters.

On the northern banks of the ford, the forces of Gondor and Ithilien sprang from their places of concealment. The harried van of the Southrons was forced to turn its attention to engaging the enemy. And still the deadly arrows rained down upon the hapless Men in the midst of the ford.

Legolas fell upon the enemy with all the grace and ferocity of his Elven forebears. Wielding bow or blade with equal facility, he was fearsome in battle. There was no sign of the gentle Elf in the warrior who hacked and stabbed and sliced away at any that dared to confront him. Yet even in the midst of the fighting, he found himself seeking the figure of another warrior. He soon located him.

It was not hard to recognize him. Feral and ruthless was Elrohir as he cut a wide swath through his foes. His dark eyes glinted with cold rage and merciless determination. His arm rose and fell tirelessly as he drove the enemy before him. Legolas realized that the twin was fighting his way to him.

Before long, they were side-by-side cutting down the enemy or driving them back to the ford. As if they had never parted as brothers-in-arms for so many years, they fought together with uncanny synchrony, knowing each other's moves and defending each other's backs. Legolas managed a fleeting glance at Elrohir and was met with the other's gaze. He saw the light of battle in the other's eyes and blood-thirst besides. But he also glimpsed fulfillment and he suddenly remembered how his friend had fiercely defended him throughout the War. He was doing so once more.

The ambush turned into a virtual slaughter. The Southrons on the northern bank were reduced to corpses. The ford was swollen with the bodies of Men and horses and littered with their carts and supplies. Only a small fraction of the army that had not completely made the crossing managed to break away and flee south. Legolas and Elrohir knew they would return to their realm to recoup and one day come back to plague them anew. But when some of Gondor's warriors would have pursued them, Elrohir stopped them.

"Let them go," he said. "We must get to Pelargir and add our strength to the King's forces."

They saw to the disposal of the dead and debris first. Their own people they buried beneath the eaves of the tall trees of Ithilien. The enemy they burned in great pyres. The spoils they salvaged to be returned or redistributed as needed.

As they prepared to march once more, Elrohir approached Legolas. They had not been able to speak with each other since before the battle began. Legolas was binding his left hand.

"You are hurt," Elrohir said with concern.

Legolas said: "Just a small cut. 'Tis no matter." He looked at Elrohir. "And you?" Elrohir shook his head. Legolas smiled suddenly. "You fought well."

The Elf-warrior gazed at him. "As did you," he said. "I am glad we had this chance to fight together once more."

"I share the sentiment, _gwador_," the Elven prince replied. "I felt no fear in this battle. Indeed, I always feel safe when you are at my side."

He turned to mount his steed but Elrohir stayed him. "Do you mean that?" he asked seriously. "About feeling safe because of me."

Legolas looked at his friend. "Yea, I mean it," he replied. "I have always felt it."

It was true, Legolas thought. Elrohir's devotion to him throughout any fighting always gave him a sense of security. It was a feeling that the twin would even consider leaving his forces to their own devices than allow any harm to come to his friend.

Elrohir was staring at him with a gleam in his twilight eyes. "I would sooner perish than let you take hurt in any way," he said.

"Do not say that," Legolas admonished him "I am not worthy of such a sacrifice."

"So say you," the twin said. "But I think otherwise."

Using the warhorse as cover, he leaned forward with a suddenness that took Legolas unawares and brushed his lips against the prince's. He drew back and briefly regarded the startled Elf. And then he strode off. Legolas stared at his retreating back in shock.

He has not given up the chase, he thought, his heart suddenly racing.

oOoOoOo

They reached Pelargir in time to throw their support behind the massed forces of Gondor.

Forewarned, the citizens of the port city had fled to safety taking with them their valuables and many belongings. When the Southrons arrived they found naught but the swords and lances of their enemy to welcome them. But the Haradrim were not deterred. Though they had tasted bitter defeat in the Great War they were still a people to reckon with, cruel and proud. Not for them to retreat in ignominy before the might of Gondor.

The battle that ensued was fierce and bloody. Many were the dead and wounded on both sides. For a time both sides were evenly matched. But the arrival of Legolas and Elrohir's forces tilted the balance in favor of Gondor and dealt the Haradrim a lethal blow.

Aragorn, taking advantage of a lull in the fighting about him, looked around at his men. With some surprise, he realized that while Elladan, Eldarion and Gimli and his Dwarves fought around him Legolas was nowhere near. It worried him for always had the Elf remained at his side in the many battles during the War of the Ring. Aragorn had to admit that he had gotten so used to it that he had come to take it for granted that Legolas would find a way to join him.

He finally saw him after a while, further afield, his bow singing, sword flashing. And at the Elf-prince's side was another prince who fought with as much savage efficiency. It was Elrohir. Aragorn permitted himself a small smile as he turned his attention once more to the fighting.

oOoOoOo

Legolas moved amongst the tents of his warriors, checking for those who might bear severe injuries, taking note of any casualties. He counted himself fortunate. The dead amongst his people were much less than he had feared. The injured were greater in number but that was easily dealt with considering the strength and endurance of the Elven body.

Aragorn had set up camp outside Pelargir and thither had the forces of Gondor retired after the battle. The army from Ithilien had also settled here, the Elves choosing to stay a little apart from the rest. That was not too surprising. The Elves of Ithilien were largely of Silvan stock. They had always been less friendly with Men and were, therefore, more shy of them even after several years of living in the southern kingdom. Only the few Sindar like Legolas felt at ease among the Younger Children of Iluvatar.

The Elven prince had other things on his mind at present. With the triumph of Gondor over the Southrons, he could turn his thoughts to the trek home. A home that had been preserved by their victory, thank the Powers. He was relieved that the beauty of Ithilien would not be despoiled in this conflict.

He noticed Aragorn, his son and his foster brothers approaching along with Gimli, his Dwarf friend; he walked out to meet them. He saw that none of them were hurt or harmed in any way and for that he was thankful. He was only realizing now that he had fought the whole battle by Elrohir's side. He had not even thought to fight his way to Aragorn as had been his wont. All his concern had been for the Elf who remained at his side. He was not certain if he had done right or wrong. When it came to Elrohir, he wasn't sure of anything any longer.

He greeted Elladan and Eldarion before turning his attention to the Dwarf lord.

"'Tis good to see you again, Elf," Gimli said gruffly though his eyes twinkled with gladness at seeing his old friend again. "You can still fight well enough, I see."

"And 'tis good to see that you have lost none of your edge in battle, Master Dwarf," Legolas replied. "Though it seems the numbers you slew fell far short of what you used to be capable of," he added teasingly.

The Dwarf sputtered in indignation. "I will have you know that 'twas not my skill that has diminished but the confounded protectiveness of my people that has increased!" he growled. "Had I known that becoming a lord would mean enduring their misguided attempts to coddle me, I would have stayed put in Erebor and remained a simple Dwarf!"

Legolas laughed merrily, pleased that Gimli had lost none of his curmudgeonly demeanor. He turned his attention back to Aragorn and the others.

"Gondor owes you and your people much, mellon nîn"—my friend— Aragorn said warmly.

Legolas shook his head. "We are as much a part of Gondor as any of your people, Aragorn," he pointed out. "You owe us nothing."

"I am glad to hear that," Aragorn grinned. He gave a slightly weary sigh. "And I am more than glad that this is over. We return to Minas Tirith tomorrow. I would relieve Arwen of any anxiety as soon as possible." He looked at the Elven prince inquiringly. "Gimli has agreed to come for a visit. Will you join us?"

Legolas glanced back at the tents that sheltered his people. "Nay," he replied. "We will march to Ithilien as soon as it is light. My people are anxious to return to their homes. Wood-elves have no liking for stone walls and dwellings."

Aragorn said regretfully, "Then we must part again, my friend. 'Tis a pity. Arwen would have been pleased to have you visit with us. She is with child again by the way."

"That is wonderful news!" Legolas smiled. "Give her my love and regards. Mayhap I will find the time later this year."

"_I_ have the time to visit Ithilien," Elrohir suddenly said. King, Dwarf and both princes looked at him in surprise. There was something unmistakably provocative about the way he spoke. Only Elladan was not taken aback and he regarded his brother with amusement mingled with compassion. Elrohir looked pointedly at Legolas. "Did you not say during your last sojourn in Minas Tirith that it would please you if I did?"

Legolas hesitated. "I said that, aye," he answered guardedly. "But I did not think it would be so soon after this crisis."

"I am not welcome?"

Aragorn looked sharply at his foster brother. He wondered if he had heard a challenge in the Elf's voice. Surely not, he thought. Why would he take that tone with Legolas? But a glance at Gimli's startled expression told him he had not misheard.

Legolas smiled at Elrohir but Aragorn was quick to observe that the smile did not quite reach his eyes. "You are always welcome, Elrohir," the prince said with an edge to his voice.

"Then I take it that I may join you tomorrow?" Again the challenging, almost taunting tone.

"You may if you wish."

Aragorn and Gimli looked from Elven prince to younger twin in perplexity. There was some byplay going on here but they had no idea what it was. Aragorn could feel the tension growing though and he moved quickly to dispel it. He did not want his mellow mood to be marred by something as vague as a feeling that something was not quite right between the two.

"I give you leave to go then," he told his foster brother. "Will Elladan join you?"

"Nay," the older twin said. "I wish to spend some time with Arwen before I return to Imladris. This is Elrohir's _desire_, not mine."

Aragorn did not miss the emphatic manner in which Elladan had uttered the word 'desire' nor was he oblivious of the three-way glance the Elves shared among themselves. But before he could ask what in the name of Arda was going on, his son interrupted.

Eldarion exclaimed, "Can I go with Uncle Elrohir, _Ada_? You promised me that I could visit Ithilien when he went."

Aragorn's raised his eyebrows. "Your mother will not be pleased that you should take off so precipitately. Will you not see her first?" the King pointed out.

"If I go home to Minas Tirith first, she will never let me set out at all," the youth complained. "Please, let me go with Uncle Elrohir. I swear I shall come home after a week even if he stays on with Legolas."

Elrohir grinned at his nephew's eagerness. "Let him come with us, Estel. I promise, I will take good care of him. And I will hold him to his word and send him home in a week's time."

Aragorn sighed. "Very well then, you may go, _iôn nîn_. But you must take some men with you. I will not have you travelling alone on your way home. And if you are to go with them tomorrow morning I advise you to get some rest. _Edhil_ can march all day on little or no sleep. All they need are their dreams." He grinned at the Elves and was rewarded with smiles. "I will not have it said that the heir of Gondor held up a whole company of Elves because he needed to take a nap!"

Gimli snickered as Eldarion turned a nice shade of red. But Legolas could scarcely find the wherewithal to even smile. Not when a pair of twilight eyes regarded him with an intensity that sent tremors up his spine and threatened his equanimity. And promised him more than he was willing to imagine.

Glossary:  
Cerveth - Sindarin for July  
Edhil – Elves  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
roch vreg – wild stallion  
Ada – Papa  
iôn nîn – my son

_To be continued_…


	79. Calenlass 5 Overture

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV: Overture  
Eryn Gael, Ithilien

Elrohir looked up at the stars with delight. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but they seemed so much clearer out here in the wilds than in the enclosed streets of Minas Tirith. Or was it because he was in a place he much desired that the stars seemed so much brighter?

He was standing in the great clearing before Legolas' halls. Though dressed quite simply in a silvery shirt, long pale breeches and soft boots, he still cut a striking figure especially with his raven hair pulled back into a single thick plait.

He glanced back at the brightly lit porch of the prince's house, wondering when Eldarion would awaken.

Legolas' home was a two-story dwelling that partially embraced the wizened trunk of an oak tree. Like all the other homes in the colony, it had been designed for comfort and functionality. There was nary a trace of ostentation or conceit in its simple lines. Yet it possessed a loveliness that was enchanting and abounded in charm and grace.

The same could be said for virtually every house in the colony. But even more fascinating to mortal eyes was the way the Elves' dwellings seemed to glimmer in the dark amongst the trees. It was how the Elves themselves were perceived by the few Men who passed through this neck of the woods. Hence the name of the colony, Eryn Gael, or 'Glimmering Wood'.

Elrohir looked around him once more in delight. It was a number of months since he'd last resided in a structure of wholly elven make. Minas Tirith's buildings were beautiful and ancient but they lacked the affinity with nature that the Firstborn sought in all their endeavors. To be at one with trees and flora, one had to leave the city and travel to the nearby forests. And while Anduin was close by, the looming ruins of Osgiliath and the somewhat depressing atmosphere the fallen city imparted was enough to discourage lengthy visits to the river.

Aragorn had begun the reclamation of the former capital but it would take many years before it was even partly habitable again. And so it continued to lie near empty in the distance, a constant reminder of how close the Men of the West had come to oblivion.

Elrohir set aside such melancholic thoughts and returned his attention to the beauty and serenity around him. Truly, it was wonderful to be amongst his kindred once again.

He heard the faint patter of footsteps behind him. Turning around, he smiled fondly at his yawning nephew as the young man emerged from Legolas' house.

"It seems I have slept the day away, Uncle," the boy remarked drowsily.

"You needed the rest," the Elf-warrior replied. He considered his nephew's state ruefully.

Aragorn was right, of course. The Elves had stopped only to take quick meals or short rests. He knew they had done this for the sake of the Men among them and that had they not been present might have pressed on without stopping at all. Certainly, the march to Pelargir would have been much swifter had _Edhil_ comprised the entire force from Ithilien. As it was, if the Men had not been mounted, Elrohir doubted that they could have kept up with the pace the Elves had set.

They'd reached Eryn Gael the evening before in much less time than was normally needed to cover the distance from Pelargir. Such hardy riding in the wake of his first great battle had worn Eldarion out. He had been badly in need of rest when they arrived on the doorstep of Legolas' gracious home.

Hardly had Legolas shown him his room when he'd yanked off his tunic and toppled exhaustedly into bed. He'd fallen asleep within seconds. When he awakened in the morning, he'd been a mass of aching muscles and stiff limbs. Taking pity on him, Elrohir had dunked him in a steaming bath fragrant with healing herbs, undeterred by the young man's half-hearted protests.

Today, Elrohir had kept company with his nephew, helping him familiarize himself once more with the colony. It was many years since Eldarion had last visited and he had been but a child. Elrohir brought him around, introduced him to various residents and showed him the ways of the Edhil that the boy could not possibly witness within the stone walls of Minas Tirith. In this manner did the Elf-lord teach his sister's son more about his elven heritage.

And then the young man took yet another long nap. Elrohir remained with him, eventually dozing off himself.

Legolas had been busy elsewhere and they'd barely spoken to each other the whole day. He wondered if it was deliberate. He smiled grimly to himself. It would not avail his friend anything.

One thing he noted this evening. The clearing was devoid of folk. But he could hear the sounds of laughter and song in the distance. He wondered what was happening.

"Do you hear that, Uncle?" Eldarion queried. "And where is everybody?"

On the point of admitting that he did not know either, Elrohir saw one of the men-at-arms approaching them. The man bowed his head in deference to his prince and the Elvenlord.

"My lords, our hosts are holding a feast yonder," he said, gesturing with his head in the direction whence they had heard the sounds of merriment. "Prince Legolas bade me to tell you as soon as you awakened. They desire your presence."

They walked across the clearing, past the dwellings and down a gentle slope on the far side of the colony toward a great meadow a fair distance away.

Across the long stretch of verdant space, Elrohir espied the light of a great bonfire and folk gathered around it in a wide circle. Elves moved to and fro bearing food and drink and others played instruments, thus bringing forth sweet music. The soldiers of Gondor were gathered to one side of the circle, somewhat diffident around their fair hosts but obviously enjoying themselves nonetheless.

Elf-lord and royal nephew were still some distance from the bonfire when another tune was struck up. Elrohir saw Elves in the middle of the circle, standing around the fire. They began to dance. He noted the swirl of delicate fabric and the flash of twin knives.

I know that dance, he realized. He hastened his steps, pulling a curious Eldarion along.

When they reached the edge of the circle the men greeted them and opened up their ranks for them. After acknowledging their greetings, Elrohir turned his attention to the center of the circle.

There were three pairs of dancers. The _ellyth_, graceful as does, held swaths of silken cloth in their hands, waving them as they moved. The _ellyn_, no less graceful but with the more disciplined motion of warriors, had sheathed their knives only to draw them out once more with quicksilver speed, twirling them in their hands to the beat of the music.

One in particular moved with such lithe yet precise motion that he commanded much attention. Elrohir's eyes narrowed with decidedly greater interest. It was Legolas.

The Elf-lord stared at the Elven prince with open admiration. It was many years since he had seen his friend dance. Even more years since Legolas taught him the steps of this particular dance.

He and Elladan had visited Greenwood at a time of festival. He'd found the Silvan folk dances intriguing and persuaded Legolas to teach him the one that was being performed at present.

He glanced at his nephew and smiled at the other's wide-eyed stare and gaping mouth. Eldarion was patently enthralled by Legolas' performance. The archer stood out among the male dancers not only because of his comeliness but also because of the apparent effortlessness of his movements. Even amongst the men, Elrohir heard whispered comments to this end.

He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of cloth and blades, the sinuous movements of slender limbs. And all the while, his eyes kept wandering back to Legolas.

As simply garbed as the younger twin, the archer was clad in a gleaming shirt of palest green over a pair of muted grey breeches and light boots. Shorn of the more rugged garments in which he was most oft seen when he was abroad, he looked more like an ethereal being than a fearsome warrior of note.

Elrohir stared at the prince, willing him to look his way, daring him to meet his eyes. As if responding to his thoughts, Legolas lifted his head and their gazes collided across the top of the bonfire for one brief moment. Elrohir sucked in his breath.

In that moment he beheld a vision of incomparable beauty. Golden light almost formed a halo around shining hair, danced on smooth pale skin and shone from crystalline eyes. He remembered once more what had drawn him so inexorably to his friend those many years ago and vowed that the night would not pass without incident.

The music quickened, became martial in nature. The male dancers turned to face the fire, knives in lowered hands.

One _elleth_ danced alone for a spell before whirling gracefully out of the circle whereupon an _ellon_ entered it and approached one of the warrior dancers. Just as he neared, the latter spun around and they locked knives in a series of thrilling movements. Elrohir remembered the sequence with singular clarity. He glanced at Legolas, knew he would be the last to gain a new partner.

He did not know which Elf had been designated for the part nor did he care. He suddenly demanded the sheathed knives of two startled men-at-arms and swiftly strapped on the weapons.

With perfect timing, he stepped into the circle just behind the archer, forestalling the Elf who was to have joined Legolas. There was a murmur of amazement and curious anticipation. As Legolas turned, Elrohir drew out his knives smoothly and, in the same graceful flurry of motion, crossed blades with the prince.

Legolas stared at him in surprise but, true to his training and skill, did not falter. The blue eyes flashed challengingly. The twin took up the challenge. Suddenly, it was if they were back in Greenwood, teacher and student going through the motions over and over again until they could do it together unthinkingly and flawlessly.

It was not common to see two Elven princes, one Eldarin, the other Sindarin, dance together; even rarer to see them move with such perfect synchrony in a dance that was seldom performed outside the boundaries of the woodland realm of Eryn Lasgalen.

The other performers soon stopped to watch them and Elves and Men alike were reduced to silent astonishment and wonder, enchanted as if by a spell, as the two thrust, parried and locked knives, with never a step or motion out of place or beat. Eldarion's eyes were now as wide as saucers and his jaw looked likely to hit the ground.

There was a reason behind the dance. It did not celebrate conflict but rather served as a reminder that there were no guarantees in war. When foes were of even strength there was no knowing who would win or lose. Therefore, it was also an admonition to the warmongers, a warning that more could be lost than gained when violence was used as a means to an end.

In a final series of movements, their knives crossed once more and their eyes met across the locked blades. A symbolic draw between two opponents of equal stature and skill.

As the music came to an end, they drew apart, simultaneously sheathing their weapons on the last note. To the sounds of applause and praise they bowed their heads to each other, right hands going to their breasts in a gesture of deference to the other.

Lifting his head, Elrohir caught Legolas' eyes. For the space of a heartbeat something flickered between them. Then with a brief nod, Legolas moved away.

Elrohir walked back to his nephew and the men-at-arms. They were loud in their praise, proud of their lord's performance. Eldarion was particularly exhilarated and peppered his uncle with questions about the dance and how he had come to know it so well.

The woodland folk plied the Elf-lord and his nephew with food and drink. Elrohir graciously accepted the offerings and stayed for a while with Eldarion and his men, occasionally fielding inquiries from the other Elves. And, to Eldarion's amusement, skillfully fending off the inevitable flirtation or enticement by maids and other warriors alike. But after a reasonable period of time, he finally left the young prince's side to join Legolas.

The Elven prince had retreated outside the circle and moved towards the first line of trees at the edge of the open space. He was seated with some friends on the trunk of a fallen oak in the semi-darkness beyond the reach of the bonfire. When the other Elves saw Elrohir approach, however, they respectfully gave way to him and returned to the circle. Legolas watched him with shadowed eyes.

"I did not think you would remember the steps," he said when the sable-haired Elf settled beside him. "You did very well."

"If I did well 'tis because I had an excellent teacher," Elrohir replied.

Legolas smiled briefly. "We were barely into our third century when I taught you this dance," he commented. "It seemed strange to perform it with you after all this time."

"Were you displeased?"

"Nay, why should I be displeased?"

"What did you feel then?"

Legolas looked at him, uncertainty clouding his eyes. "I do not know," he murmured. "But I do not think we shall do this again."

"Why not? We moved well together. We have always fought well together." Elrohir chuckled softly. "And I have not forgotten how well we do _other things_ together."

Legolas did not miss the slight emphasis on that telling phrase. He suddenly rose to his feet.

"That is what I fear," he said under his breath. He turned to go but stopped when he heard the Elf-knight speak.

"Where will you run?" Elrohir softly said, knowing the other's keen ears would hear him. He heard the prince catch his breath. Rising to his feet, he faced Legolas. "Where will you hide?" he challenged with frightening gentleness. "There is no place in Middle-earth where you can conceal yourself from _this_, Calenlass _nîn_."—my Greenleaf.

He reached out and placed his clenched fist against the other's chest over his heart.

Legolas pulled away with a start. Drawing a deep breath, he turned and hurriedly walked away. Elrohir watched him go, eyes glittering in the dark, a curious half-smile on his lips.

Glossary:  
Edhil (sing. Edhel) - Elves  
ellyth (sing. elleth) – Elf-maids  
ellyn (sing. ellon) – male Elves

_To be continued_…


	80. Calenlass 6 Knight's Desire

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V: Knight's Desire  
Legolas looked out at the forest beyond his windows and breathed in the sweet herb-scented air. The dryadic loveliness of Ithilien had waxed with the arrival of the Elves and the forests flourished under their care. In turn, the woods nourished the Elves and brought them respite from weariness and grief. The archer sighed. If only he could find relief from his inner turmoil.

He sensed a new presence and turned. Elrohir had entered his bedchamber.

The twin looked about the room with a smile, delighting in the way it seemed almost part of the oak around which the dwelling had been built. It was also smaller and cozier than Legolas' quarters in his father's halls.

"'Tis not quite as large as your room in Greenwood," he remarked.

"I like it well enough," Legolas replied briefly.

Elrohir glanced at him and smiled. Legolas was not certain what to make of that smile. "I just realized," the other said, "I have never been in this room before."

Legolas lifted his chin a little challengingly. "You never had a reason to be here before."

Elrohir's smile changed; it no longer reached his eyes. "I do now," he said with ominous softness.

Legolas felt his muscles tense. He had not wanted to confront Elrohir tonight. Yet he'd known something might happen after what occurred after the dance. He tried to clear his mind but it was difficult to think lucidly when the sudden pounding of his heart drowned out everything else.

Elrohir seemed to sense his tension. He gazed at the prince and then, slowly and deliberately, raked his form with his eyes. He did not attempt to hide his appreciation of what he saw nor did he veil the desire he felt.

More than ever, Legolas felt like a stag that had been trapped in a hunt.

He was clad in naught but a thin bed-shirt and trousers and the raiment did nothing to conceal the hard planes and symmetrical contours of his slender frame. His hair hung loose, unbraided, like a gleaming waterfall of silver and gold. Under Elrohir's predatory gaze, he suddenly felt vulnerable as he had never felt even when he fought Mordor's forces before the Black Gate.

_You will be mine, Legolas. I think you know that_.

Legolas caught his breath as the words came back to him. He turned away and stared out the window and found himself contemplating escape though the opening. But he realized that doing so would not stop the inevitable confrontation; it would only merely postpone it or, worse, impel Elrohir to pursue him, something that might very well rouse the warrior's ire and impulsiveness, a lethal combination.

Elbereth only knew what the twin would do once he caught him and Legolas was certain he would for Elrohir was one of the most fleet-footed Elves ever to grace Middle-earth. He knew his friend well enough to fear that the darkling Elf might simply throw prudence to the wind and take him right in the clearing, unheeding of watching eyes or listening ears. Better to face Elrohir now in the privacy of his chamber.

As if reading the prince's thoughts, the twin closed the door. Legolas heard the rarely used bolt slide into place. His shoulders visibly stiffened. Elrohir had bolted the door not so much to keep others from entering the chamber but to hinder any other attempts of the prince to flee. Paralyzed by his nervousness, the archer could not bring himself to turn around as the other Elf approached him.

Elrohir stood behind Legolas, his body closer than was comfortable for the prince. "I have missed seeing your hair loose like this," he remarked. He reached out and tucked a shining strand behind a shapely ear. It was silky to the touch, almost elusively so.

Legolas moved his head slightly away. He would not admit it but he found Elrohir's touch disturbing both to his senses and his thoughts.

"_Avo_," he said, his voice a mere whisper. Don't.

Elrohir's lips formed a small knowing smile; he perceived that the prince was affected by his proximity.

"_Avan_?" he countered. Don't what?

Legolas threw a cautious glance at him. He found himself at a loss for words. What was it that he wanted Elrohir not to do? Not to touch him? Not to look at him in that discomforting way? He'd always been in command of himself, never giving away more than he desired, aloof and unattainable. Not even Aragorn had probed the innermost recesses of his heart and soul. Only the twins had truly known him though within the bounds of their millennia-long friendship, of course. But now Elrohir had stepped beyond those bounds once more, this time for good. If he elicited what he sought from Legolas it would not be for the here and now but for all eternity.

"Do you fear me?" It was more a statement than a question.

Legolas turned to face him warily. Elrohir was taller by an inch or so and his frame more solid. And they were fairly matched in strength for though Elrohir had Edain blood in his veins, he counted the ancient Kings of Doriath and Gondolin among his forebears and the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood besides.

"A little. You are not the Elrohir I knew."

"We all change to one degree or another."

"I would that you had not changed so much."

"You would have me remain unaltered like unfeeling marble or stone?"

"Nay, but I would have you remain as I knew you. My best friend. Elladan's beloved twin." He hesitated. "Aragorn's trusted kinsman."

Elrohir's eyes flashed warningly. "Estel again," he remarked acidly. "I will not be his brother in your eyes. I will be Elrohir and no other."

"I was not comparing you to him," Legolas said. "I promised you that I would not. But I do wonder why you pursue me now." At Elrohir's puzzled expression, he said: "You have been bitter of late whenever I speak of him. Are you sure your desire for me is not simply because of what I felt for him?"

Elrohir laughed shortly. "If that were the case then I would not be here at all. I care not for Estel's leavings."

Legolas's eyes turned glacial. "I am no plaything to be discarded at will by anyone, man or woman," he said icily. "What I do, I do of my own free will. I am nobody's leavings."

Elrohir gazed at him. "Nay, you are not," he murmured. "Despite all your years of life and the lovers you have known you are still quite untouched, _malthernilen_."—my golden prince.

Legolas eyes' widened. The iciness within them faded to be replaced with uncertainty once more.

"I do not seek to be Estel's rival for a place in your heart," Elrohir said. "Nay, what I seek is to supplant him. I want you to be wholly mine and nobody else's."

Legolas sucked in his breath. He had never known such depths of feeling could exist. He had to admit, it frightened him. To willingly give of one's self so completely and hold nothing back was something he had never done for anyone. Now, Elrohir not only wanted it, he was intent on getting it.

"Elrohir," he said shakily, "Do not ask of me what I cannot give."

"I do not but I will take what you _can_ give." He suddenly moved forward.

Reflexively, Legolas stepped back and found himself against the wall. Before he could move again, Elrohir was upon him.

The twin pushed the prince by his shoulders flush against the wall. He was not rough but neither was he gentle. He ignored the sudden hiss of breath Legolas let out at such handling and instead reached up with one hand to cup the prince's sculpted jaw.

"I thought you could not be more beautiful than you were on the day of Eldarion's betrothal," he said silkily. "I was wrong."

Legolas gasped as Elrohir kissed him full on the mouth. His first impulse was to fight and flee but the other anticipated this and grasped his wrists to hinder him. Bringing to bear all the power of the Eldarin blood flowing in his veins he trapped Legolas against the wall and kept him there.

Shock put Legolas at a disadvantage. He had always known the other's strength but he had forgotten that passion and singular desire would impart to him more than enough force to subdue a fellow warrior.

Memory slowed him down and made him susceptible to Elrohir's demands. His lips were compelled to part and accept the other's onslaught. Again the familiar wild thrill swept through his veins. Pleasure coursed through his limbs and cascaded over his body as it had in all their previous encounters.

Reaction stripped him of resistance. He could summon neither the strength nor the will to stop the other. Elrohir plundered his mouth and he could do nothing. And a heady, heated sensation akin to liquid fire enveloped him like a glove. It forced a sound of unmistakable pleasure from him.

Elrohir drew away as suddenly as he had initiated the kiss. They were both breathless from the contact. Legolas stared at the warrior, his eyes wide with conflict.

"You cannot deny that you enjoyed that," Elrohir said with just a hint of a challenge in his tone. "More than you did when you last yielded to me."

Legolas averted his gaze. "This is not right," he murmured agitatedly.

"Why? 'Tis not as if you have never done this before."

"'Twas different then."

"How was it different?"

Legolas drew in a shaky breath. "'Twas out of friendship. I wanted to help you."

Elrohir laughed softly. "You certainly helped me. I would not have minded being helped that way these past many years."

Legolas glared at him in exasperation for a second before turning his eyes away once more. "You know what I mean!" he said. "Elrohir, we have been the closest of friends for most of an age. 'Tis difficult to see you as anything but that. My yielding to you was for our friendship's sake, nothing more."

"Yet you told me once that I alone could make you feel pleasure in a man's touch."

Legolas felt his cheeks color. He had forgotten his words to Elrohir the last time they had lain together.

"You knew desire even then, Legolas," Elrohir softly said. "And you say you knew it with Estel though you could not act upon it. But I am bound to no other and I love you with all my being. Can you not lay our past to rest and look to the future? Or are you afraid to look because of what it can mean to both of us?"

Legolas let out his breath. "Mayhap," he whispered.

"Look at me now," Elrohir said. "What do you see, Calenlass? What do you feel?

Reluctantly Legolas turned his gaze upon Elrohir. He swallowed hard as he studied the fair countenance before him. Scion of the Eldar and Edain and Maiar, Elrohir was one of the comeliest of the Firstborn. Legolas had never denied the darkling Elf's beauty and had even anchored himself on it when he first submitted to the other's need for him. It had been the means by which he had initially endured their unlikely intimacy, and then learned to find pleasure in it. That beauty now pulled him. He could not ignore what the other's touch awakened in him.

Elrohir saw the change in the blue eyes, the easing of tension in the finely wrought mouth. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss upon now pliant lips. Legolas shuddered at the tenderness of the caress. Of their own volition, his hands snaked around the twin's waist.

The prince trembled. His body betrayed him. It responded to Elrohir all too readily. He had no control whatsoever over his reactions, the way his nerves sang like the strings of a harp when stroked by a master musician.

Like the onrushing flow of a raging river the pleasure swept through his veins. He could not help responding and the more he responded the more Elrohir gave back until they were both breathing raggedly.

Valar! His kisses are more potent than I remember! Legolas dazedly thought.

The sound of fabric rending startled him out of his haze. He jerked back to find his shirt torn nearly halfway down the front. Elrohir ignored his shocked expression and simply finished ripping the material, leaving the shirt open to its hem.

"What are you doing?" Legolas gasped.

"It will take forever to pull it over your head," came the matter-of-fact answer. "I am not about to give you time to change your mind."

He took the archer by the wrist and pulled him purposely to the bed.

"You are impatient, Elrondion!"—son of Elrond!—Legolas protested.

With a sudden movement, Elrohir spun Legolas around and compelled him to move backward. The edge of the bed caught at the back of the archer's knees and he fell upon the mattress. Elrohir swiftly followed him down.

"I am done with waiting!" Elrohir retorted.

Legolas found himself torn between amusement at the other's keenness and apprehension at what was to come. "I hope we won't regret this," he said under his breath.

"We won't, I promise you," Elrohir murmured.

Before the prince could speak once more, he was silenced by another kiss, so deep and passionate that all sentient thought fled. Legolas gave up any notions of further resistance and yielded to his war-brother's desire.

Their garments were divested with rapid precision. A pair of silvery eyes swiftly studied his body anew, dwelling on his groin with a dark gleam that made him catch his breath and made him feel butterflies in his belly not felt since his adolescence. Not even the prospect of facing Sauron's hordes had unnerved him this deeply or easily. One glimpse of the Elf-knight's formidable length increased the fluttering sensation and he chided himself for looking at all.

He succumbed swiftly to Elrohir's sensual onslaught, astounded anew by how well the twin knew his body. He had lain with many an Elf-maid since their first coupling but none had ever brought him to such peaks of pleasure as Elrohir did with seeming ease. And he had never been tempted to sample the attractions of another male _Edhel_. Only the Elf-knight roused that latent desire in him and stoked it with such enthralling skill that he made all the prince's past affairs pale in comparison. Tonight was no exception.

With long-honed ability, bold Imladris tamed, seduced, conquered anew the sacred core of primal Greenwood.

Elrohir was not merely a skilled lover, he was a consummate one. But the talent came not only from lengthy experience but also the twin's sensitivity to his partners' needs. Legolas had never heard less than glowing assessments of the Elf-lord's abilities and when those same abilities had first been turned on him, he'd had to concede that the compliments were not exaggerated.

Hands knowingly mapped his body, lips mercilessly teased his flesh; even whispered words inflamed his senses in their sheer eroticism – the warrior wielded as many weapons off the battlefield as on. Elrohir took his time pleasuring him, seeking the places that responded to his touch, bringing him repeatedly to the brink of completion then pulling back to prolong the sweet torture. Before long, the archer's whole being was alive with exquisite sensation.

Incoherent words and meaningless sounds spilled from Legolas' lips as the pleasure mounted and peaked; he felt he could no longer endure it and still stay sane. Sensing that he was near the end of his forbearance, the twin adroitly delivered him into shattering release.

The tumult of completion left him nearly winded. He lay still, breathing hard and unevenly. The mattress dipped as Elrohir crept up to lie beside him, one arm curling around him possessively.

At his touch, Legolas felt a slow fire blister its way through his nerves. Desire flaring in his veins, he languidly turned to face the warrior, blue eyes deepening to indigo, and pressed his lips to the other's mouth, eliciting a low thrilling moan. He reached behind and unbraided the thick single plait that held back Elrohir's mane then ran his fingers through the sable locks, luxuriating in the satin softness of it.

Two millennia ago, when he'd first shared his bed with Elrohir, he had been for the most part, a passive partner. Despite the pleasure he had experienced, it had been too new to him, too different from what he had known. But the last time they'd lain together just over a century past, he'd taken a more active role, his passion awakened by Elrohir's peerless loving. Now, in rediscovering the twin's singular effect on him, he felt a burning need to give as well as take. Letting his hands roam, he touched and stroked the darkling Elf until the latter's body thrummed with pleasure. He watched the twilight eyes darken dangerously and felt a thrill of anticipation shoot up his spine.

His actions had indeed astonished Elrohir and filled him with delight though he sensed that Legolas withheld a part of himself. The Elf-knight did not resent this emotional reticence. He knew his Greenleaf all too well. It was the prince's way of protecting himself from heartbreak and the anguish that inevitably followed. For Elrohir, it was enough that Legolas yielded to him once more; their renewed intimacy a gift he treasured. And the reciprocation of his attentions served to deepen his love and desire, evident as he renewed his assault upon the other's senses.

He surprised the archer by urging him onto his stomach. It was a new experience for Legolas, to be unable to see his lover, to only feel what the other was doing to him.

He caught his breath as Elrohir covered him with his own body, bracing himself on either side of the archer's torso with his powerful arms. He shivered deliciously as the entire lengths of their graceful frames molded together and warm kisses and shallow bites were teasingly administered to his nape and shoulders and the skin just behind his ears, a newly discovered spot highly sensitive to the twin's caresses. He moaned as the twin's lips wandered down his back, exploring, tasting, nibbling.

By the time Elrohir crept up his full length once more, Legolas was trembling violently from the wild surges of sensation that raced through his very veins. Beyond shame, past prudence, he found himself imploring the twin to end the heady torment.

Acquiescing to his plea, Elrohir gently eased him up onto his elbows and knees. He groaned with mingled relief and pleasure as the warrior slowly took him. Heated kisses were pressed to his back and shoulders leaving him all aquiver.

When Elrohir reached around his hips to cup him in his hand and fondle him to a second culmination, Legolas' senses reeled wildly. The Elvenlord was a master at overwhelming him with multiple assaults, driving him mindless with rapture. Taken from behind, claimed from below – soon he was teetering on the brink of yet another explosion.

It was then that he felt it. An echo of pleasure not his own, building up swiftly, resounding in his mind and senses, building his pleasure to even greater heights. It occurred to him, even in his fogged state, that it must be Elrohir's feelings that he was experiencing though how he did not have the time to ponder. For a moment later, release overcame them almost at the same instant.

The result was near cataclysmic. The rapture, however faintly felt, reverberated through him, linked with his own rolling climax and stoked and drew it out until it seemed his whole being was one mass of pure and powerful sensation. With every overwhelming wave that washed over him, he cried out hoarsely, helplessly, clutched convulsively at the sheet that it nearly came apart.

As he breathlessly rode out the multitude of sensations, he heard his name gasped out, Elrohir's warm breath feathering his nape. He knew then that his assumption was right and that he had somehow tapped into Elrohir's pleasure as it evolved into completion. Or had the warrior unleashed a gift or skill he'd previously hidden from his friend? Whatever it was, it left the prince completely drained and sated.

After Elrohir withdrew from him, he rolled onto his back and looked tiredly at the sable-haired Elf. He was unaccountably pleased to see the twin looking as spent and contented as he himself felt. But though sleep beckoned, he forced himself to stay awake a while longer. He had to know...

When he'd regained enough breath to speak, he said: "What – what did you do?" At the Elf-knight's questioning gaze, he added uncertainly, "I felt your pleasure. It was faint but it – it joined with mine and – and heightened it." He shuddered as he recalled the almost unbearable rapture. "I have never felt anything like it before."

Elrohir hesitated before answering. "As I told you I have loved you long and deeply. Mayhap 'twas but my passion spilling over that you felt."

Legolas peered at him wonderingly. For some reason, he had the feeling that the twin was holding something back. But before he could question him further, Elrohir forestalled him.

"Does it matter how it happened?" he softly said. "So long as you enjoyed it that is all I care about."

Legolas thought about it then nodded and relaxed back against the pillows.

"Valar, you've exhausted me," he said with a tired grin. "I shall really need this night's sleep."

Elrohir's answering smile seemed somewhat pensive. "I would ask a favor of you," he murmured.

"If it is within my power."

"I would that you still be by my side come morning," he said. The twilight eyes quietly pleaded with him, the shadow of expected denial hovering at their edges.

Legolas comprehended the significance of the request. Save for the last time they had lain together, he had always left Elrohir's side by dawn. It had been his way of keeping his twofold roles as longtime boon companion and occasional lover from merging. Now Elrohir was asking him to stay. To be _both_.

He gazed at Elrohir. _Meldir, gwador, melethron_. Friend, brother, lover. He had not thought it possible for anyone to be all three to him. Yet here he was again, sharing his bed with his best friend and pledged brother. _When will I learn never to underestimate him? _

"I will be by your side," Legolas whispered, educing a smile of such tender gratitude that his heart filled with gladness.

He moved into Elrohir's inviting embrace and laid his head upon his shoulder. Strange, he thought bemusedly as sleep took hold of him, but this feels so right. As if I have always belonged here...

_To be continued_…

**AegnorTelemnar:** Thanks! I felt that Aragorn and Gimli would be confused by the byplay between Legolas and Elrohir since those two are known to be extremely close friends. Glad you enjoyed it.  
**Nina:** Yes, Legolas has been backed into corner.  
**Author Unknown:** I loved Duran, Duran. And "Hungry Like a Wolf" was one of my favorites. But I never thought this chapter would remind anyone of that song! Thank you anyway.


	81. Calenlass 7 First Steps

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI: First Steps  
Legolas felt his cheeks burn each time any of his people looked at him with their maddeningly indulgent smiles. It was blatantly apparent that the whole colony was aware of the turn his relationship with Elrohir had taken. The Elven prince would have liked to pretend that it was elvish perceptiveness that made his people cognizant of his intimacy with Elrohir. But in all honesty he had to admit it was his own impassioned outbursts that fateful night that had tipped them all off.

Not that he could have helped himself even had he retained the ability to recall the proximity of other dwellings to his halls not to mention inconveniently sharp elven ears. Elrohir's exquisite ministrations had rendered that virtually impossible. And no doubt would continue to do so when he resumed his nocturnal visits. He would just have to resign himself to being the object of knowing glances and smiles each morning after. Either that or move their _activities_ out of earshot of everybody else.

Only Eldarion, who apparently slept as soundly as a Hobbit after a hefty meal, and the company of soldiers from Minas Tirith, whose quarters were at the edge of the settlement, remained ignorant of the state of affairs. Thank Elbereth there were some who did not know, the archer mused. He wasn't sure he would be able to keep his dignity in front of Eldarion should the young prince find out he and his uncle were lovers. And the soldiers – well, they would not understand; they were only human after all.

One thing though was unmistakable. The folk of Eryn Gael were not only aware of his relationship with the Elvenlord, they most heartily approved of it. They were happy that their prince had apparently found his match in one as noble and beloved as Elrond's younger son, the Greenwood Elves no less happy than the Galadhrim who had adored their former lord and lady's grandchildren.

Legolas had to concede that there was something compelling about having a steady companion. In Elrohir he had a trusted counsellor, a pillar of strength and a source of comfort and encouragement on even the most vexing of days. And he acknowledged, if only to himself, that he had sorely missed the warmth and affection only a lover could provide. That Elrohir gave both and more besides made his contentment even more acute. It made him blush to admit it but he was actually looking forward to another coupling with the twin.

However, Elrohir did not attempt further intimacy with him after that first night. Instead he spent much time with Eldarion, helping the young prince learn more about the Elves of Ithilien, further instructing him in the nuances of elven life and culture as could not be clearly imparted in the City of the Kings. When he was with Legolas, he conveyed his affection through other means whether it was simply helping him with his day-to-day tasks or taking on some of the prince's responsibilities himself.

Legolas realized the warrior was giving him time to come to terms with their new relationship. This act of love and concern touched him, further impelling him to seek time alone with the twin. He found himself planning toward that purpose. Not that he would ever tell the warrior about it. That would leave him completely helpless for the Elf-knight would most certainly make short and explosive work of his desire.

Nonetheless, that desire was the reason why, a day after sending his nephew back to Minas Tirith, the younger twin found himself enjoying the pleasure of bathing in a crystal clear spring amidst the quiet grandeur of nature. Legolas had led him to this secluded spot soon after the morning meal. A lovely little spring with a small waterfall, its banks bound by rocks and tall reeds. Trees hid it from plain sight and made of it a sanctuary. The other Elves seldom came here for it was known to be their prince's place of solitude.

Elrohir broke the surface of the water and swiftly looked around. He frowned. The surface of the spring was absolutely still, except for the slight ripples his body had created. He was about to submerge once more when an alabaster form shot up before him, making him stumble backwards and fall back into the water. He came up sputtering to see Legolas laughing merrily at him. He glared at the prince.

"That was – that was underhanded!" he growled.

Legolas only chuckled more. With a motion of his head, he indicated to the twin that it was time to leave the spring. He turned and headed for the bank. Elrohir followed him slowly. He watched as the prince emerged from the water, a slender yet sleekly muscled form, shining pale in the bright sunlight. Like marble, Elrohir thought. White and cool and flawless.

The two drew on their long breeches and shoes but left off their shirts and jerkins. Sitting beneath a rowan tree, they waited for the sun to dry their wet bodies.

Elrohir became aware of the scent of his companion as they quietly waited. A whiff of it evoked images of tall trees and fragrant leaves, wild fruit and flowers on sun-dappled forest floors, herb-scented breezes and cold, clean streams. It was elusive; it defied proper description.

It was as seductive now as it had been the first time Legolas had submitted to him. And in their latest coupling it had enthralled him all over again. It had accompanied every kiss and caress, beguiled his senses as his eyes and lips and hands wandered over velvety skin, taut muscle and slender limbs, further stoking his desire, deepening the enchantment the prince wove around him. With an inward sigh, he shook the all too tantalizing memory from his mind.

Legolas handed him his shirt and jerkin. As he donned the shirt, he noted the way the muscles on the Elf's lean frame pulled as he drew on his clothing. It never ceased to amaze him that someone so ethereal in appearance could be so strong and well made. Then again, there were many who made this false assumption much to their regret; that is, if they survived long enough to feel anything at all.

Elrohir snickered at the thought. At Legolas' inquiring glance, he said: "Have you ever wondered why people see you as a fragile creature? You would think that after having seen you in battle, they would realize how mistaken they are. But nay, once you take off your armor they think you as delicate and breakable as crystal. Even I am guilty of this sometimes." At Legolas' amused smile, he added, "Though you thoroughly disabused me of that notion all over again two weeks ago."

The prince smirked. "What did you expect of a fellow warrior?"

"More resistance than you showed when I cornered you." Elrohir looked at his companion with some puzzlement. "Our strength is fairly equal. You could have fought me. What hindered you?"

"Shock," Legolas ruefully replied. "I couldn't think, let alone act." He glanced at Elrohir. "Count yourself fortunate. Had I my wits about me, you would not have had me so easily."

A gust of mirth escaped Elrohir's lips at the not so subtle threat. Legolas studied him curiously.

"The wanting can sometimes be greater than the having, Elrohir," he remarked. "Now that you have gained what you desire once more, are you content?"

Elrohir frowned and looked at him. "But I have not gained it all," he quietly said. "You may have yielded your body to me but not your heart and soul. How can I be content? But as to wanting and having…" He paused a moment. "For me, the having is greater than the wanting. It is inconceivable to me that one should care only for the chase and cease to desire one's quarry when one has finally captured it."

He turned his dusky eyes on the archer. "It is inconceivable that anyone should not want you after having won you. You are the most beautiful being I have ever known, Calenlass. And the most desirable." He heard the prince's shaky intake of breath and smiled. "And after having known you so intimately, I can confidently say, the most satisfying as well. Forgive me, I did not mean to discomfort you," he laughed softly as deep color stained Legolas's cheeks.

"You praise me too much," the prince murmured.

"Nay, I only state the truth. This despite the fact that you have not truly yielded to me." He smiled a little sadly at Legolas' surprised reaction. "You held back part of yourself as usual, prince of Greenwood. I have not plumbed the depths of your passion." He sighed. "In that I envy Estel that you surrendered your heart to him."

Legolas hesitated. After a while, he murmured, "I did not." When Elrohir looked at him skeptically, he looked into the distance, his eyes unseeing. "I said I loved him, I did not say I surrendered my heart," he said. "'Tis frightening to give of one's self so completely. I have never done so. I do not believe I can."

"Still the guarded heart," Elrohir whispered. He felt Legolas' startled eyes upon him. "You keep your heart well shielded up to now. I think it a pity, _ernil daur_. For how will you ever experience love in all its splendor if you do not open yourself to it?" At the other's silence, he said, "'Tis the reason that you are so desired. Like forbidden fruit, the unattainable is always sought in the prideful hope that it may be gotten."

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "And once gotten, wearied of?" he remarked somewhat caustically. "Will you tire of me should I ever yield all to you, Elf-knight?"

Elrohir met his eyes and held his gaze. "You should know me better than that, Legolas. What I treasure I cherish forever. And you are the greatest treasure of all." He suddenly averted his eyes. "Yet Estel is far wealthier than I for you gave him your love no matter how little it may have been. You probably think me brash and confident but in truth I fear that I will never be as fortunate."

His voice caught at the last and he suddenly rose to his feet, snatched up his jerkin and walked away.

Legolas stared after his retreating form. I have never been offered love as pure and complete as his, he realized with a pang. Always there had been prerequisites whether it was personal or political gain, comradeship in war or sheer physical desire.

Elrohir loved him for himself. He always had as friend and brother. But even now, when he sought much more than that, he still cared for Legolas as selflessly as before.

The prince remembered the past when the other had despaired, nearly giving in to grief rather than burden his friend with the knowledge of his desire. When Legolas had offered him what he needed, he had not accepted it so readily. And even when he finally did, he had almost not gone through with their coupling when he thought his friend unwilling. Just as he would not have forced himself upon Legolas that painful instance a century ago had the archer flatly refused to yield. Even then he gave me a choice though he made it nigh impossible for me to deny him, Legolas thought.

A week ago, Legolas belatedly realized, he would not have pressed on had the prince protested in earnest. He would never have compelled his friend to do something against his will no matter how much it pained him in return. Elrohir's admission of fear made that heartbreakingly clear. Grasping the full extent of what the other offered him, Legolas found himself lacking. Following on the heels of that thought came the unexpected need to _be_ worthy of such devotion. Rising, he followed the twin.

Elrohir drew on his jerkin then leaned pensively against a graceful beech. You are a fool to offer your love where it is not wanted, his reason castigated him. You should not have pursued this. It will only come to naught. His heart stays guarded and you will know rejection and grief.

He felt the prince's hand on his shoulder. But he did not look at him. He was not certain he wanted to see what would be in the other's eyes, least of all pity.

He started when he felt Legolas' fingers on his face, compelling him to turn his head and look at him. Reluctantly, he obeyed.

Sapphire pools met his gaze and despite his unhappiness he still felt the enchantment their beauty so easily wove. For the longest moment, the prince gazed at him and then, to Elrohir's surprise, Legolas brushed his lips against his. He stared questioningly at the prince but the other simply pressed his mouth against his in reply.

Elrohir was torn between elation and confusion. Always had he been the one to initiate any act of love. To have Legolas take the initiative now was a great pleasure. He only wished he knew the reason why. Not that he could think very clearly when his friend was suddenly making a sensual duel of their kiss. It left him breathless.

Legolas drew away slightly and noted Elrohir's bemusement. His smile grew predatory, a change that quickly registered on the other's mind. Elrohir eyed him warily.

"_Heltho_." Strip.

Elrohir blinked. Had he really heard the huskily voiced command?

"What?" he half gasped.

Legolas' eyes gleamed. "You heard me well enough," he almost purred. "Or do you require assistance?"

oOoOoOo

Much, much later, as he re-donned his clothes, Elrohir could not help wondering if he had dreamed up the whole experience though his body most emphatically told him it had been no illusion. But there had been a difference between this afternoon and the week before.

There had been another dimension to their coupling.

He had been startled by what the prince was capable of when he unleashed even a fraction of what he held back. Elrohir could not half imagine what it would be like if Legolas were to ever drop all restraint. But why did he do this in the first place? Elrohir wondered.

_It was almost as if he wanted it so much that he..._ The darkling Elf frowned. Nay, that was too ridiculous to even consider.

_I did_.

He caught his breath and glanced at the prince. Legolas was busily drawing on his jerkin. He was not even looking at Elrohir. The Elf-lord wondered if he had imagined the reply.

"You did not."

Elrohir sighed. "Have you made it your habit to read other people's minds?" he said a little tartly.

Legolas looked up and grinned. "Are you complaining?"

Elrohir shook his head. "Of course not. I have nothing to hide from you." He suddenly stopped and stared at the prince wordlessly for several moments as the other's earlier reply finally registered in full. "You wanted it? Why?" he finally said.

Legolas' grin changed into a small smile. "Apart from enjoying the fruits of your considerable skill?" he teased. He chuckled when Elrohir rolled his eyes then pressed on. "If I am to learn to love you then I must open myself to your love," he explained. "Is that not what you said, Aduial?"

Elrohir started at the newly bestowed pet name. "Twilight?" he repeated wonderingly.

"'Tis the color of your eyes," Legolas said, his smile brightening. "Am I the only one who has ever thought to call you thus?"

Elrohir could only nod for the sudden lump in his throat hindered speech of any kind. Legolas reached out and tucked a stray strand of raven hair behind his ear. The intimate gesture made the younger twin smile in turn.

Legolas took his lover's hands in his, clasping them together within his own palms. "Only a fool would let someone like you slip through his fingers," he softly said. "For you alone will I try to yield all that I am and have. Only you, Elrohir, nobody else."

Elrohir swallowed the lump, wordlessly pulled the prince into his arms and held him tight against his heart. And when he felt the other's arms encircle him in as snug an embrace, he fervently hoped it wasn't just a dream. Ai, Elbereth, please let this be real, he thought.

_It is_.

Elrohir smiled.

Glossary:  
ernil daur – forest prince

_To be continued_…

**siriusissues:** Thank you for such a lively defense! I do my best not to allow these things to get to me but I admit it's a pleasure when someone actively takes up the cudgels on my behalf.  
**Author Unknown:** Well, I can't imagine anyone having complete control over him/herself in the middle of an orgasm. /chuckle/ Thanks so much. I'm glad you're enjoying this story.  
**AegnorTelemnar:** Thank you, it's lovely to know that you enjoyed Elrohir's methods of persuasion. /grin/ References to Legolas' fears with regard to love and heartbreak are recounted in earlier parts of the series, the most patent declaration being in Chapter 4 of "The Choices We Must Make" (G&I Chapter 53).  
**Nina:** Glad the heat pleased you. Thanks!


	82. Calenlass 8 Surprises

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII: Surprises  
Minas Tirith, _Úrui_ F.A. 21  
"We will have to be discreet." Legolas noted Elrohir's quick frown. "Aragorn's vassals will not understand," he reminded his friend. "Our ways are not theirs. They will regard our relationship as unnatural and abhorrent."

The two were travelling on horseback to Minas Tirith for Elrohir had been summoned back by the King. About them were several Elven warriors.

It was more than a month since Elrohir had accompanied Legolas back to Ithilien after the Haradrim incursion. It was a month the Rivendell Elf had savored especially after he had sent his royal nephew back to Minas Tirith as promised. For in Ithilien there had been no prying eyes to mar the sweet interlude he had shared with his beloved prince. Legolas' words brought back the starkness of reality.

"I know that all too well," the twin muttered.

Legolas added: "Besides, if they were suspicious enough before of my intentions they will be doubly so now even should they tolerate our relationship. They will say that our intimacy will increase my influence over you and, through you, over Aragorn. Your prolonged stay in Ithilien will set tongues wagging if it has not already. And the common folk will be even less understanding. Elves are still a strange people to them even if they have accepted our presence here."

Elrohir nodded resignedly. He glanced up at the Tower of Ecthelion. They had passed the Rammas Echor and were now traversing the Pelennor. About them, peasant folk and other travellers stared at them with a mixture of reverence and awe and just a hint of fear.

It was unusual enough to have their king's foster brother in their midst journeying as casually as they were. It was even more unusual to see him in the company of several _Edhil_. Elrohir noted how many quickly looked away should they meet the eyes of any of the Elves.

"What of Estel and Arwen?" he asked. "I would have them know at least." When Legolas did not answer at once, he looked at him curiously. "Surely you do not fear their censure."

"'Tis not their censure I fear. But I would not have them worry that you might be diverted from your duties to Gondor because of me." When Elrohir would have protested, Legolas quelled him with a stare. "You can be more stubborn than a Dwarf with a grudge and as tenacious as a Hobbit in search of his second breakfast. I would not blame them if they thought you capable of casting aside your obligations should you think it the only way to have what you desire. You know that Eldarion depends on you and looks to you for guidance and training."

Elrohir drew in his breath, his mouth curling into a scowl. "I never thought I would regret coming back to him," he said. "Are we to stay apart then for the duration of this visit?"

Legolas smiled. "Discretion is not synonymous with chastity if that is what you mean," he chuckled.

Elrohir said in a low voice, "'Tis not only your bed that I seek. I would have your company, too."

His words recalled to Legolas that it was not desire that drove Elrohir's love but rather the other way around. The prince reached out his hand to squeeze the other's in a rare public display of affection.

They went straight to the King's study upon their arrival. As they made their progress down the corridors, Legolas observed the reactions of the men they met along the way. Their greetings to him were friendly enough but he could sense the underlying interest in his being in long company with their king's brother. Elrohir's prolonged visit to Ithilien had indeed set off speculation about them.

Arwen was within with her husband. As soon as her brother stepped into the room, she hurried to him and swept him into a tight embrace while Aragorn greeted Legolas.

"At last you are here!" she said. She drew back and a scolding look settled on her face. "Would it have been too much to ask of you and Eldarion to see me before heading off for Ithilien?" she demanded. "I had to be content with Estel's assurances that you were both well!"

Elrohir's eyes widened with guilt. "Forgive me, _thel nîn_"—my sister—he said. "I did not mean to distress you."

She laughed softly. "I am only teasing you, _mellen_. I know you had been wanting to visit with Legolas these past many years." She looked to her friend, her eyes twinkling. "I hope he did not run afoul of your people as he has done in the past?"

"Arwen!" Elrohir protested.

Legolas and Aragorn laughed. "You need not have worried," Legolas said. "He was a paragon of virtue – for the most part." He smiled wickedly when Elrohir colored somewhat.

Aragorn chuckled. "I am glad we will not have to contend with the wrath of your people then. Gondor has not yet fully recovered from our last conflict." He looked at his foster brother. "'Tis good of you to hearken to my summons so swiftly though, in truth, you need not have returned so soon."

"Your messenger told us that a matter of great importance had arisen," Elrohir said.

Aragorn nodded. "We received a missive from the Haradrim asking us to treat with them. They are sending a delegation here for this purpose. They should be here within a fortnight. I would like you to take part in the talks."

Elrohir frowned. "Then you mean to parley with them again?" he asked.

"If a new treaty with them will ensure lasting peace in our lands I see no reason why we should not at least hear what they have to offer." He glanced at Legolas. "I would have you present as well, my friend. You may provide some insight as to their motives."

Legolas shook his head. "I do not think that wise, Aragorn. I have already been subjected to a greater amount of scrutiny than I find comfortable."

"But you must be present, Legolas," Elrohir insisted. "Your senses are even keener than mine and all the more valuable for our needs." He looked to Aragorn. "What if he did not remain at our side but simply were there as an onlooker? Surely no one would take it amiss that the lord of Eryn Gael should have an interest in the proceedings."

Aragorn nodded. "An excellent suggestion, _gwanur nîn_. What say you, Legolas?" At the Elf's reluctant assent, he smiled with satisfaction. "Now, go and refresh yourselves. We expect you to join us for dinner."

Dinner was not the casual affair Elrohir had hoped for. Several of Aragorn's counsellors and barons were present for the talk was about the coming meeting with the Southrons. He did not fail to notice the surreptitious looks the men threw at Legolas though the prince kept silent for the most part.

Well into the meal, his annoyance with their demeanor got the better of him and he defiantly reached under the table and grasped Legolas' hand. His friend did not visibly start but he sent a quizzical glance in the twin's direction. Elrohir did not return the glance but stroked the Elf's palm with his thumb. The gesture was not lost on Legolas. He knew it was Elrohir's way of showing him that he was not alone among these rather hostile Men. It reminded him how affectionate and supportive Elrohir could be with those he loved.

Much later, Aragorn and his queen walked together to their chamber. Dinner had lasted late into the night and he and Arwen were relieved to finally get away.

As they slowly proceeded down the passageway, Arwen said, "I would like Legolas to join us for breakfast, Estel. We have not really had the chance to talk with him about more than politics and war."

Aragorn smiled. "Aye, that is so. Perhaps we can tell him now. We are near his chamber."

"But he may already be asleep, _melethron_"—m. lover—Arwen pointed out. "That he left dinner before we were done must mean that he was wearied by his journey here."

"Legolas? Wearied by a mere two-day ride?" Aragorn scoffed mildly. "More like he was tired of the scrutiny of the others. Elrohir was angered by that or did you not notice?"

"I noticed. 'Tis quite apparent why he excused himself so early as well."

They stopped as the passageway branched off into two. "I might as well inform him now," Aragorn said.

He walked to the fair _Edhel's_ door. He was about to open it when he heard soft sounds from within. For a moment he stared at the door in some surprise. Then a wolfish grin spread on his lips.

He backed away and returned to his wife. Arwen looked at him in bemusement. "That was swift," she said. "What did he say?"

Aragorn chuckled. "Our esteemed Elf is rather busy at the moment. I do not think he would have welcomed an intrusion just now."

Arwen stared at him then suddenly giggled. "You are right, Estel, he is not tired. But he will undoubtedly be before long!"

They went on to their own chamber, laughing as they did.

Aragorn made his way to his friend's room early the following morning. He assumed that the archer would have dispensed with his night's companion by then. After all, no lady with any sense would stay the entire night and run the risk of being seen by somebody who might carry the tale to the wrong person – such as an irate father or a jealous husband. Therefore, he opened the door with confidence and walked in.

He stopped at the threshold and stared, his mouth dropping open with surprise. His foster brother stared back at him.

It was not so much Elrohir's presence in Legolas' room at such an early hour that had so taken Aragorn aback. It was the fact that the twin was in the process of donning his shirt, the very garment he had worn the night before, that made the King stare. There was also the matter of Elrohir's dark hair not yet tidily bound or plaited. And the bed showed every sign of having been put to use for purposes other than sleep confirming his assumption that the Elf-prince had not spent the night alone.

"What are you doing here?" Aragorn finally demanded, his shock rendering him less than tactful.

Elrohir glared back. "What are _you_ doing walking into Legolas' room without knocking?" he asked pointedly.

A dark eyebrow rose alarmingly as the King took exception to his brother's tone of voice. Things may have gone ill if not for another, more timely intrusion.

"Peace, Elrohir. Aragorn and I never stood on ceremony during our travels together." Legolas came out of the bathing chamber. Though far from fully dressed and his fair hair still hung unbraided, he looked quite unruffled by the sight of king and lover staring at each other across his chamber. "We did not bother with knocking and on occasion had to share quarters as well."

Elrohir turned intensely quizzical eyes on him at that. Aragorn did not miss the meaning behind his stare. Legolas prudently chose to ignore it.

"Well, Aragorn, you are early," he said coolly. "Not another crisis, I hope?"

Aragorn glanced from the prince to his brother suspiciously. "Nay, I only came to ask you to join us for breakfast. Arwen and Eldarion are already at table."

"Then we must not keep them waiting. We will join you as soon as we are dressed."

Aragorn threw one more curious look at Elrohir then nodded. Without another word, he departed.

Elrohir had not stopped staring at Legolas. "You shared quarters?" he asked acidly.

Legolas sighed. "Your imagination outstrips reality, Elrohir. Do not put malice where there is none. I have already had enough of that since last night."

Elrohir's eyes lost their edge. "I am sorry," he said softly. "I did not mean to add to your distress."

Legolas smiled to take the bite from his words. "Go and get dressed," he said. "I do not wish to keep the others from their meal overlong."

Only after Elrohir departed did Legolas drop his cool demeanor. He rolled his eyes and thought: And we have only just arrived!

oOoOoOo

Aragorn's odd expression was not lost on his wife. She watched him wonderingly as he joined her and Eldarion in the intimate alcove near their apartments where they frequently had their morning meals. She was blooming in the first months of her pregnancy though the only visible sign as yet that she was with child was her slightly thickened waist. For now, their daughters did not join them for they were considered too young and impatient to endure the various discussions that usually took place at these meals.

As he took his seat opposite her, Arwen asked, "What ails you, Estel? You look as if you have swallowed a fly."

The King looked up and let his breath out. "I went to invite Legolas to join us as you bid," he slowly said.

"And?"

"Elrohir was in his room."

The Queen just looked at him. "And there is something wrong with my brother being in Legolas' room?" she said.

"Nay, 'tis not that. He had just finished dressing. And the bed... Arwen, I believe he was our friend's companion last night." The last sentence was uttered with a great deal of hesitation.

Arwen went still while Eldarion gaped at his father.

"I – see," she murmured.

Eldarion, on the other hand, gasped and blurted out, "So that's what happened in Eryn Gael!" When his parents looked at him with raised eyebrows, he blushed and elucidated further. "'Twas our second night. There was a celebration and Uncle Elrohir performed this wonderful dance with Legolas using knives. They spoke to each other afterwards and I thought there seemed to be tension between them. Later that same night, I remember waking up because of the sounds of – of, well, coupling."

He flushed even redder. It was embarrassing to speak of such matters before his mother. But Arwen merely smiled encouragingly. He went on though his cheeks remained rosy with discomfort. "I did not really pay attention. I just assumed that either Uncle Elrohir or Legolas had spent the night with someone. I never thought that they'd spent the night with each other!"

His parents fell silent after he finished his tale. Then Arwen sighed. "I am not surprised."

Aragorn and Eldarion stared at her. "You are not?" the King repeated. "Pray tell, why not?"

She placed her elbows on the table and steepled her hands in front of her meditatively. "Something happened between them long before you were born, Estel. You see, my brother's feelings for Legolas changed at one point from that of friendship to desire." She lifted an elegant eyebrow at her husband when he stared at her in dazed disbelief.

Aragorn broke out of his daze. "What-what came of this desire?" he managed to ask.

Arwen continued softly. "Elrohir was going to end their friendship for their closeness had become a torment to him, his sorrow was so great. But Legolas refused to let their friendship end. To save it he offered to quench Elrohir's desire." She stopped again as her husband's mouth now dropped open with even more shock than before. "What? You were raised in Imladris; you know the ways of my kindred. Are you now going to close your mind and judge them like a mere Man?"

"Nay, of course not!" Aragorn replied. "Only, it does not seem possible. Elrohir was ever a lover of female charms. I cannot conceive of him turning his desires elsewhere."

"Then you do not know him as well as you thought you did," Arwen smiled slightly. "Neither he nor Elladan passed up the chance to sample the pleasures of male flesh. 'Tis Legolas who never showed an inclination for his own kind." She paused long enough to let her husband and son digest the information.

Aragorn slightly reddened, remembering the brief time when the Elven prince had been inordinately close to him. Prudently, he decided not to contradict his beloved on the point of Legolas' proclivities. After all, _that _had been but an aberration brought on by the extremes of war and peril.

"I agree that Elrohir's preferences lay for the most part with female-kind," Arwen continued. "Indeed, after Legolas yielded to him, he returned to his old ways, bedding any fair maiden who so much as looked his way. Yet Legolas remained dearer to him than any other. But not until this moment has it become clear that his regard was much more than I had been led to believe."

"I never would have guessed that such a thing had come to pass between them," Aragorn admitted.

"But had you not noticed that Elrohir had restrained himself of late?" Arwen asked. "I know he never bedded another _ellon_ after Legolas but I am also reasonably certain that he has not lain with any woman since he made his choice to be of Elvenkind more than twenty years ago. For my brother that is an incredibly long time to remain chaste."

"Mayhap he can no longer find satisfaction with anyone but the one he loves," Eldarion murmured, empathy and concern for his adored uncle limning his voice.

Arwen nodded, pleased with her son's perspicacity. "They are very alike. They can love deeply in friendship but in matters of the heart they are both very cautious."

"Legolas is very much the more guarded of the two," Aragorn mused. "Elrohir does not fear to give his love where he would."

"But never true love, Estel," Arwen said softly. "He was open to it but he never felt such great passion for anyone. I often despaired that he would never know it despite the depths of feeling that he is capable of. Are you not glad he has finally come to love someone?"

"'Tis not his choice that I have reservations about, _melethril_"—f. lover—Aragorn said. "Though I will admit I had never imagined Legolas would be it. But I worry that this may become known to others and thereby cause problems. The Men of these later times know little of the nature of Elves and simply will not accept such a relationship."

"But how would others learn of this?" Eldarion asked, puzzled. His eyes widened at the pointed look his father cast him. "But they would never be so careless!"

Aragorn sighed and said: "Not Legolas. But your uncle, while a formidable diplomat in matters of government, is not quite as tempered in matters close to his heart. I fear he will forget his place and throw prudence to the wind should anyone treat Legolas with open disrespect, which, regrettably, some do. Considering his place in this kingdom is second only to ours, that could provide fodder for scandal." He pursed his lips. "It might in turn impel him to take his leave of Gondor in order to forestall further trouble."

"_Hervenn_, you worry overmuch," Arwen chided him gently. "'Tis not as if it _will_ come to pass. And you should know Legolas well enough to be confident that he would never let Elrohir forget his position in court."

Aragorn shook his head. "But what of Elrohir? He can be very stubborn, _ind nîn_. And possessive besides! You should have seen his expression earlier when I walked into Legolas' room without knocking and afterwards when he learned that we had shared quarters during the Quest. I wager he would have bitten my head off had I not been his brother!"

Arwen giggled while Eldarion could not help snickering. "Forgive him, Estel. 'Tis his first time to truly love." She reached over and pressed his hand reassuringly. "You must trust him, _meleth nîn_. At least, be glad his choice is someone we also love and trust. Legolas will temper him. He will be good for him."

"I hope so. I would not have Elrohir quit this kingdom over – over – "

"Love?" Arwen said with raised eyebrows. Her husband started at the subtle reminder of what his queen had sacrificed for that very same emotion. He flashed a boyish, scapegrace grin that had both his wife and son softly laughing.

Arwen glanced up. "Hush, we can continue this later." She smiled a welcome at Legolas as he made his appearance. A few minutes later, Elrohir joined them as well.

The meal started ordinarily enough. Arwen questioned Legolas about Eryn Gael and news of his father's realm in the Greenwood. In turn she imparted the latest news to come from Elladan and Nimeithel in Rivendell.

Naturally talk of Elladan inevitably led to stories of his infamous adventures with Elrohir and Legolas and later Aragorn as well. Before long they were all laughing at the most memorable incidents the four older diners could recall. For the most part, Elrohir enjoyed himself though he felt some dismay and embarrassment when some of his more unsavory escapades were retold in front of a rather astonished Eldarion.

Somewhere along the way, the talk led to the Quest and the roles Aragorn and Legolas had played in it. It was at this point that Elrohir began to feel unease. His disquiet grew as the two recounted the moments when they had separated from the Ring-bearer and travelled across Rohan with Gimli the Dwarf in search of their two captive friends. His discomfort reached its peak when the two recalled the battles and the weary, anxious lulls in between. He did not fail to miss the deeper shadings in Legolas' eyes when Aragorn spoke of having had to rely on each other for comfort and encouragement when times seemed too dark to bear.

Feeling excluded and something more besides, Elrohir suddenly rose from his seat to the surprise of the others. "If you will excuse me," he muttered.

Arwen looked up at him in surprise, noting his displeasure. "What is wrong, _tor nîn_?"—my brother?—she asked.

"Nothing is wrong, _muinthel_"—sister—he curtly replied. "Pray, continue with your tales. I would not ruin your enjoyment of them."

Legolas caught the slight edge in the twin's voice. He stared at Elrohir but the latter avoided his eyes.

"Uncle?"

Eldarion was also staring at the twin with worry, but to his confusion and hurt, Elrohir only walked away. Legolas glanced at Aragorn whose brow had creased with concern. "Let me talk to him," he murmured and rose to follow the warrior.

"Elrohir!"

The twin halted when his name was called. Legolas caught up with him before Elrohir could leave the alcove.

"What ails you?" he asked. "And do not tell me nothing is wrong."

Elrohir let out a frustrated sigh. "I am only weary of listening again to tales of the Quest."

Legolas peered at him. "That cannot be the only reason, _pen neth_."

"Young one!" Elrohir's expression turned mulish. "_You_ are the younger by many years, Legolas!" he said somewhat heatedly. "I will not have you treat me as if I were a child."

"But you are acting like one," Legolas retorted though mildly. "You have caused concern for your family and not given them the comfort of a reasonable excuse."

Elrohir flushed and looked down vexedly. "I know," he muttered. He lifted troubled eyes to the prince. "It's just that... Ai, I wish you and Estel would not go on and on about your adventures together. I have already heard enough of them to last me several lifetimes."

Legolas stared at him in surprise. Then he noted the glance the twin darted at Aragorn and his tightened lips. It came to him in a flash. "Sweet Eru, you are jealous!" he softly exclaimed. The raven-haired Elf glared at him. "Elrohir, there is nothing to be jealous about!"

"Yet I saw how you regarded him so reverently."

"He was my avowed captain throughout the Quest."

"And more besides," Elrohir could not help saying. He caught himself when Legolas raised one eyebrow ominously. He crossed his arms in a gesture of frustration. "I am sorry, that was uncalled for. But whenever you speak of that time – of what you shared..." He heaved a sigh. "It feels as if in the months you spent together on the Quest, you forged a friendship with Estel that has replaced and even surpassed that which we have shared in over three thousand years."

Legolas shook his head vehemently. "That is not so," he said. "You and Elladan have always been my closest friends."

"Yet you came to care for Estel far more deeply than you ever have for either of us," Elrohir said softly. "I told you I would demand nothing of you but neither do I wish to be reminded of—" He stopped and fell silent. But his distress was palpable.

Legolas softened. "Whatever I felt for him is done with," he murmured. "Come, let us go back." When Elrohir remained reluctant, Legolas neared him and clasped his shoulder. "In one thing have you bested all others," he quietly said. At the other's puzzled expression, he added, "You have had me as no other ever has, Aduial. Surely that counts?"

Elrohir blushed then but a small smile finally appeared on his lips. A faint chuckle escaped him. "You are right, Legolas, I am acting like a child," he said ruefully. "Why you put up with me is a mystery."

Legolas grinned. "You were no child last night," he teased.

The blush deepened and the warrior had to look away for a moment. But after a while, he laughed with Legolas before composing himself. "Very well, let us go back that I may apologize and own myself a rogue for worrying them so."

They returned to the table whereupon Elrohir kissed his sister on her smooth forehead, murmured an apology to his foster brother and squeezed his relieved nephew's shoulder. As they took their seats once more, Arwen glanced at her husband with a triumphant smile. Aragorn grinned back indulgently.

Glossary:  
Úrui - Sindarin for August  
mellen – my dear  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
ellon - male Elf  
hervenn – husband  
ind nîn – my heart  
meleth nîn – my love

_To be continued_…


	83. Calenlass 9 Twilight's Caress

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VIII: Twilight's Caress  
In accordance with Legolas' wishes, Elrohir always went to the archer's room as discreetly as was possible for an Elf. By human standards, that meant near invisibility. Tonight was no different.

He traversed the corridor to the guest chambers and slipped into the Elven prince's room with no one the wiser. Come morning, he would leave and be back in his own apartment without anyone knowing he'd ever left it in the first place.

Legolas came out of the bathing chamber to find him seated on the sill of the large window by the bed, looking down at his lap where his hand rested, half-clenched. Elrohir looked up as he approached and a smile graced his handsome features. It was a smile that was at once tender and loving yet pensive as well, almost heartbreakingly so.

"What is it?" he asked as he came to stand before him.

Elrohir's eyes gleamed but he said no word. Instead, he put his arms around the archer's waist and pulled him close, resting his head against the other's chest. Legolas looked down upon the raven head, raised a hand to cradle the twin close, wondering at his mood.

"Is something wrong?" he queried, stroking the sable tresses, thinking how silky they were to the touch.

"Nay, Calenlass," came the murmured response.

"Then why so quiet?" Legolas pressed him. "You are not yourself tonight, Elrohir."

A gentle shake of the head preceded the warrior's reply. "I have only been thinking about a matter of importance, that is all."

"And what matter is this?"

A delicious shiver snaked through him when, for an answer, Elrohir turned his face into his chest, nudged his night-robe open and nuzzled his flesh affectionately. A moan escaped his lips.

Elrohir simply and instinctively knew how to unravel him. With uncanny facility, he consistently elicited this response from the archer.

The twin untied the sash of his robe and slipped the garment off his lithe frame. He then loosened the lacings on the archer's bed-trousers, allowing the garment to slide down the slender limbs. His hands began to map the slopes and shallows of the prince's abdomen, loins and thighs. Legolas closed his eyes, trembling as the roving lips and hands wrought sensation upon sensation on his awakening body.

Just when he was wondering when the delightful torment would end, the Elf-knight rose to his feet and sealed their mouths in searing harmony. Without breaking the kiss, Elrohir walked him backwards until the edge of the bed caught at the backs of his knees.

He would have fallen back abruptly but the warrior caught him and deftly lowered him to the bed. He shed his own clothes unhurriedly, wordlessly, regarding the prone prince with an intensity that made Legolas shiver.

He slipped onto the bed, covering the archer with his body, locking their lips once more into a heated duel, beginning a progression of passionate caresses that soon had the golden-haired Elf pleading for mercy.

Legolas was both stunned and moved.

There was a striking tenderness, a purity of emotion in Elrohir's love-play. Though lost in the wilderness of pleasure the twin led him into, he was still coherent enough to realize that every stroke and kiss and caress was for him. This night, Elrohir was subsuming his own lust, foregoing much of his own pleasure, focusing on bringing the prince to as much bliss as he could endure.

Will he, nill he, Legolas was slowly and lovingly reduced to tremulous helplessness as the Elf-knight assiduously worshipped his body. Not a part of his body was left untouched, unkissed, unmarked.

So complete was Elrohir's adoration of his lover's entirety that when he finally took the prince into his warm mouth, Legolas reared wildly, held down only by dint of the warrior's powerful grip on his hips. In a much shorter time than he was used to, Legolas came to shattering completion the force of which left him flushed, drained and breathless.

And then, to his shock and amazement, Elrohir did it all over again, bringing him to a second and then a third release, until he was weakly begging for a brief respite. It seemed there was such a thing as too much bliss after all.

Only then did Elrohir make a move to ease himself, then drawing out this last love-act of the night to its fullest. Slowly, gently, he drove into the archer, taking his time, giving Legolas a chance to recover his breath, tenderly bringing him back to arousal. Pleasure built within them gradually, Elrohir finally allowing himself to let go, Legolas feeling the full reawakening of his being. The rapture continued to spiral with every stroke of their bodies against each other.

As they neared their peak, Elrohir leaned down and brushed his mouth across the prince's kiss-bruised lips before slipping between them to tease him from within. Of a sudden, pleasure both his and Elrohir's flooded Legolas' senses. Akin to what he had experienced in Ithilien their first night together but far more intense and fraught with more than mere physical sensation. And as before, it heightened every rapturous wave that swept through him and over him.

Totally bereft of lucid thought by now, he could only feel, react, shudder his release beneath the warrior's hard body; he'd never experienced a climax so sweet and mellow yet so profoundly satisfying in his life. And then an inexplicable feeling of joy and fulfillment coursed through him when Elrohir came to his own completion. He'd always derived pleasure from the unique sensation of the twin's warm seed spilling within him but tonight it seemed twofold as the sensation blended with an emotion he could not quite define. All he knew was that he was utterly contented and curiously serene.

Exhausted yet happy beyond measure, he nestled against Elrohir after the twin drew the covers up over their bodies. He smiled as the Elvenlord wrapped protective arms about him.

Just as sleep claimed him, he heard the Elf-knight's soft, soothing voice murmur, "Have my love, Calenlass"

oOoOoOo

Legolas woke up as was his habit at the break of dawn. But Elrohir had risen even earlier. He was quietly seated on the edge of the bed, already dressed, watching him with a doting smile as he came fully awake. Legolas sat up sleepily and as he did, Elrohir reached out and tucked an unruly rivulet of silver and gold behind his ear. The prince smiled as the gesture recalled to him the sweet fury of the previous night's loving.

Elrohir's loving, he realized with a jolt. A sense of wonder rushed through him.

I know he loves me, he thought, but I did not understand the depths of his feelings for me until last night.

"How do you feel?" Elrohir softly queried when he saw the prince's eyes turn lucid with full awareness.

"Tired," Legolas admitted. "Satisfied," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Happy I hope?" Elrohir quietly asked.

Legolas drew a deep breath and marveled at how light and free he felt.

"Aye, very," he sighed. He looked affectionately at the twin. "You were amazing. Thank you, _gwador_."

To his disconcertment, Elrohir's grey eyes clouded over. Puzzled at first, he soon comprehended its cause.

He had called the Elf-knight _gwador_—sworn brother—instead of _melethron_, or lover. Considering what had just passed between them, it was ludicrously, almost heartrendingly inadequate. But try as he might, Legolas could not quite bring himself to cross that final bridge. To call Elrohir lover was to irrevocably commit himself to something he still did not think himself ready for.

He looked at Elrohir guiltily, his ocean-hued eyes imploring. "Please, Aduial, I cannot..."

The warrior accepted the renewed rebuff. Disappointment darkened his twilight eyes but not resentment or any hint of recrimination.

He only said: "I know. Do not force yourself, _meleth nîn_."—my love. He uttered the endearment with the ease of one who embraced and savored its meaning.

At once, Legolas stiffened. Just as he could not be more intimate beyond the pet name he had given his friend, so could he not quite accept the same from the twin. Not yet.

Elrohir saw his reaction and understood. Though it stung deeply, he did not show umbrage and vowed not to upset Legolas again with such loving usage. Not until the prince was ready.

"I had better go," he said. "Will you join us at breakfast?"

Legolas nodded, grateful for the warrior's silence on his patently unreasonable response. Elrohir half-turned, hesitated, then faced him once more to regard him tentatively. He reached for Legolas' hand and clasped it tightly. He smiled slightly as he felt the prince return his grip.

"Whatever you decide, I will abide by it," he softly told him. "I desire only your happiness. I hope you know that."

He let go of the prince's hand sliding his over the other's palm. Legolas glanced down, feeling the sensation of metal against his skin.

A gold band lay on his palm. Its surface was slightly rippled; miniature clouds had been skillfully etched into the gold. Amidst the clouds were tiny crystals but for one, a cunningly cut star-shaped diamond that stood out, larger and brighter than the rest, recalling the manner in which Eärendil outshone all the other stars in the firmament. Legolas recognized the ring with shock.

This was an heirloom of the House of Elrond. Elladan had possessed its twin and had given it to Legolas' sister, Nimeithel, when they wed. He looked up at Elrohir, confusion and agitation in his eyes.

"Elrohir, you must not give this to me," he pleaded. "I – we never spoke of – of –"

"Binding to one another?" Elrohir finished for him. "Fear not, Calenlass I do not give you this ring to force you into a choice or out of any expectations. I will not wrong you in that manner."

"Then why—?"

"My heart is yours whether you want it or not," Elrohir explained quietly. "'Tis but a symbol of my love for you, no more."

"But – but this was wrought as a nuptial ring," Legolas protested. "It should be gifted upon your intended one, your binding-mate, not—" He broke off, belatedly realizing the import of his objection. "I am sorry, I did not mean—"

He winced as Elrohir averted his face in an obvious attempt to conceal the hurt Legolas had so carelessly inflicted. Remorseful, he leaned forward and curled his arm around the warrior, pulling him closer.

"Forgive me," he whispered, pressing his face into the warrior's neck. "I am only so overcome by your gift. I – I am not worthy of it, Elrohir."

He lifted his head when Elrohir turned back to face him, argent eyes becalmed once more. "You hold my heart, Calenlass," he murmured. "Who could be more worthy?" His eyes flicked to the ring where it lay in the archer's loosely clenched palm. "You need not wear it. I only ask that you keep it."

Legolas stared at the beauteous band and swallowed hard. It loomed in his hand, bright and pure and pregnant with meaning. Yet he could not put it away as Elrohir suggested. It begged to be worn; he did not understand why. Drawing a deep breath, he slipped it onto the index finger of his right hand. He glanced up at Elrohir, seeking his reaction.

The twin smiled but there was no elation in his eyes. Legolas realized then that Elrohir truly harbored no expectations. He was giving of himself, wholly and freely; he did not hope for, did not seek to take anything in return. With a murmured word of thanks, he kissed the prince gently, rose from the bed and left the chamber.

In his wake he left a profoundly shaken Elf. As he dazedly went about bathing and dressing, Legolas could not help thinking repeatedly about what had passed between himself and Elrohir. He could not deny the great worth of what had been bestowed upon him, the giver immeasurably more precious than the gift.

The Elf-knight was everything anyone could possibly desire in a spouse. He possessed true nobility, great strength of character, incomparable comeliness and age-old wisdom – there did not seem to be anything to dislike in Elrond's younger son, not even his flaws; flaws which more oft than not stemmed from his deep-seated convictions.

Mired in confusion over his nascent romantic feelings for Elrohir, Legolas found himself floundering in an arena where he knew next to nothing. All his years of avoidance of anything and everything even remotely connected with love had left him shamefully ignorant of its many shadings. All he recalled were the half-formed notions of his long ago adolescence, notions long since twisted into the fearful beliefs he'd slowly acquired in his later years.

Unbidden, he felt the first breach in the walls of his shielded heart. It was nothing like the mild stirrings he'd known when his regard for Aragorn had deepened. This overwhelmed him, threatened to take him and keep him. To own him.

He visibly trembled as unfamiliar emotions raged through him. With the creeping stealth of a seasoned hunter, the ancient drive to mate awakened in him, taking him completely unawares. He'd thought himself one of the select _Edhil_ who were immune to the binding-call, his long resistance to any emotional entanglement convincing him of the validity of his belief. But now it sang its siren song and he heard it; offered its balming embrace and tempted him to yield. It resounded throughout the whole of his being.

He recoiled from it.

Like the magma of a long dormant volcano suddenly bursting forth, his old fear flared and erupted from its wellspring in the deeps of his consciousness. The resulting panic was as a virulent, blanketing cloud that cast a shadow on the beauty and light of the Elf-knight's devotion.

Habit, however ill-founded, had long ago overtaken logic and now vociferously reasserted itself, roused by this heady incursion into the previously well-defended bounds of its territory surrounding the archer's barely touched, unknowing heart. It cried out to beware of love and its fearsome consequences. The loss of freedom. The certitude of turmoil. The inevitability of pain.

For this was an irrational dread that ignored the impossibility of his ever knowing heartbreak at Elrohir's hands. It had grown not out of painful experience but rather of the absence of it. Imagination had supplied what he lacked in actual knowledge of the caprices of the heart's yearnings and thus rendered them far more daunting than reality could ever manage.

For the first time, his long friendship with Elrohir became as much a burden as it was a blessing. For the first time, he rued the closeness they had always shared, seeing it as the battering ram that would break down the gates of his resistance. It was one thing for his body to know rapture in a lover's arms, another thing to yield his spirit to another and open himself to uncertainty and pain.

He rebelled at the very idea. He would not be fettered by anything, would not be chained to anyone. He would not be hemmed in. His promise in the glade in Ithilien all but forgotten, he struggled to rebuild the rampart around his heart.

_To be continued_…


	84. Calenlass 10 Cracks

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IX: Cracks  
"He is a remarkable archer. He aims true without fail."

"And aims high. He spends much time with the Lord Elrohir. More than what is seemly I dare say."

Legolas stiffened slightly as his sharp ears picked up the muted conversation behind him. He glanced back and recognized Lord Gethron, a baron who sought influence in Gondor's court. It was he who had uttered the latter statement, which insinuated more than was comfortable for the Elf-prince.

It was but a few hours after his parting from Elrohir and he was still in turmoil after his long morning's musings. So troubled had he been that he'd sent word to the royal couple that he would not join them for the morning meal then hastened away before Elrohir should come in search of him. He'd then attempted to calm himself by means of a soothing walk around the Citadel.

His meandering route had taken him to the near deserted battlement where he had passed the other two without marking their identities. Now, as he looked out at the Pelennor, he realized they had halted in their progress and were studying him speculatively.

"I hear they are friends of long standing," the baron's companion said.

"And I wager they are _more_ than friends," Gethron said suggestively.

"What do you mean?"

"I have heard tales of Elves and some of their strange practices. Who knows what unholy deeds this Elf-prince indulges in?"

Legolas felt a chill sneak up his spine. Gethron had struck too close to the bone. He had to put a stop to such dangerous talk immediately. He turned to face the startled men.

"I thought the men of Gondor courteous enough not to speak behind another's back," he said evenly.

The two stared at him wordlessly for a moment, shocked that he had heard their near whispered exchange. But Gethron recovered the sooner and wasted no time answering the prince's charge.

"We are only concerned for the welfare of our king and kingdom," he retorted.

"And so see fit to slander me?" Legolas remarked.

"And is it slander?" Gethron dared to sneer. "You are ever at the Lord Elrohir's side – even unto the late hours of the night 'tis said. Who knows what _counsel_ you offer our king's brother?"

Before Legolas could speak, another voice made itself heard.

"You insult my closest friend and one of the king's most trusted comrades."

The noblemen whirled in surprise to face Elrohir. He had come up behind them soundlessly and heard Gethron's allegations.

"My lord! I—"

"You accuse Prince Legolas of indulging in unholy deeds. Tell me, since I keep such late hours in his company, are you suggesting that _I_, too, practice those same deeds?"

Gethron blanched. There was no mistaking the steel in Elrohir's voice. It was perilous to cross Elessar's foster brother. The Elf-lord had no compunctions about putting one in one's place. Oft times in a most painful manner.

"Nay, I – it was uncalled for," the baron hastened to say. "I beg your pardon, my lords."

Elrohir simply skewered him with an icy glare, which sent him and his companion hurrying off. The warrior kept his eyes on them until they disappeared from sight.

"Gethron grows bolder each year," he remarked acidly. "He is ambitious, that one. Estel had best beware of him for I doubt he is one to trust overmuch."

When Legolas did not reply, he glanced at him curiously. He was taken aback by the flicker of anger in the archer's eyes.

"You show your regard for me far too openly," Legolas reproved. "You should not have interfered."

Elrohir glanced at him in astonishment. "You would have had me stand by silently while he insulted you?" he asked in disbelief.

"I can defend myself."

"But I am your friend. I could hardly let such an offense pass unnoticed."

"You will give Gondor a reason to talk about us – about me," Legolas tersely said.

"Legolas, all Gondor knows about our close friendship," Elrohir pointed out.

"But not all Gondor approves," the prince replied impatiently. "I told you, Elrohir, I will not have my honor questioned. Your demeanor will only draw suspicion upon me."

"This is absurd," Elrohir protested. "I have done nothing but act as a friend. And as your host during your stay here, 'tis my duty to see to your welfare at all times."

"That may seem reasonable to you but to those who seek to discredit me, even that can and will be subject to scrutiny. I said it before, I will say it again; you have to be discreet!"

Elrohir opened his mouth to argue then thought better of it. It would lead them nowhere since the prince was patently determined to stand by his point. The warrior decided to give way for the sake of peace between them.

He took a deep breath. "If I indeed erred in this matter, I am sorry," he said diplomatically. "It shall not happen again."

"See that it does not," Legolas said curtly before striding away with nary a word of farewell. Elrohir stared after him in hurt surprise.

It did not end there. It was but the beginning – of what, he could not tell save that it would most likely bring him grief. A pattern began to develop wherein Legolas would find fault in him, even in the most inconsequential of matters. Many a time would such an episode be followed by an apology and warmer than usual amends but that did not mitigate by much the sting of the preceding chastisements. Or their increasing frequency and bewildering pettiness.

Granted that there was good in chiding him for his sometimes too sharp tongue or remarking on the way he treated those he considered unworthy of his notice. But when even the way he dressed or braided his hair was called into question he began to bristle. It was insupportable to now be criticized for something that had never been an issue between them before. And always, always, reminding and reprimanding him to keep a decent distance between them when they were in public. You'd think we have not known each other for millennia the way he wants me to comport myself in his presence, Elrohir sourly observed.

His misgivings multiplied. And an indefinable ache began to gnaw at his heart.

oOoOoOo

On the day of the Harad delegation's imminent arrival, the men of the royal family went on a morning's hunt in the small forest south of Minas Tirith. Elessar had no intention of losing the feral edge of his days as a Ranger of the North and would take to the chase here and then, eschewing even the presence of the hunters in his service.

Besides, the Haradrim were late by nearly a week. September was nigh upon them. Let these tardy Southrons bide their time should they arrive while the king was still out. They'd certainly kept everyone else waiting for them! With that parting shot, he rode off taking Eldarion with him as well as Elrohir and Legolas and only a few trusted men-at-arms.

The hunt proved rewarding and by the time they were done, there was a sizable cache of game to be transported back to the City. It was while they were preparing to return that they were waylaid in a most charming manner.

They were met at the very outskirts of the forest by a beaming Arwen, Aragorn's two young daughters and an impromptu feast of the Queen's devising. She'd had the royal kitchen prepare a most welcome midmorning repast of bread, cheese, fresh fruit and cool mead. After warmly greeting his thoughtful wife, Aragorn had the men-at-arms move off that his family may have some privacy. The king then readily and very happily settled down in the shade of the trees with little Romenna on his lap. The others followed suit and they all soon made short work of the food and drink.

Arwen smiled with pleasure as sighs of contentment rewarded her efforts. But she was not quite done with her surprises and she bade Eldarion to help bonny Eleniel unload the last basket from her steed.

Cries of delight greeted the appearance of huge, glistening berries and freshly churned cream. Arwen grinned triumphantly for it was she who had espied the particularly luscious offerings during a surprise trip to the market that morning.

Elrohir glanced at Legolas who had languidly reclined against a tree just behind him. The Elven prince looked longingly at the scarlet fruit but was reluctant to move from his comfortable position.

With an understanding smile, the warrior dipped one berry in the cream and offered it to the archer, placing it within tongue's reach of the other's lips. Legolas hesitated at first but finally opened his mouth to accept the fruit. In this manner did the Elf-knight feed him several pieces.

But as he did so, he noticed the prince's growing discomfort. He wondered about it. Mayhap Legolas was embarrassed to be fed like an Elfling before an openly amused Eldarion. Not to mention a humorously indulgent King and Queen of Gondor.

He had all but forgotten the incident when the family finally returned to the City. Accompanying Legolas to the latter's chamber, Elrohir noted his continued distraction. He watched as the archer perched himself on the sill of his window, leaning his golden head back against the frame. He looked pensive and thoughtful.

"What is wrong, Calenlass?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," Legolas said. "Except..."

"Except?" the warrior prompted.

The archer sighed. "I would ask you to desist from feeding me that way in front of others," he murmured.

Elrohir stared at him. "What way?" he inquired, puzzled. "I have oft fed you in that manner in all our years of acquaintance as you have done me. And even Elladan has done the same for you."

Legolas lifted uneasy eyes to him. "But Elladan is not known to be my lover," he softly said. "I would not inflict discomfort where it can be avoided."

"Known to whom? Whose discomfort?" Elrohir let out a perplexed breath. "Legolas, you are not making sense. I do not—" He stopped of a sudden and gazed at the archer with dawning comprehension. "'Twas because Estel was watching that you felt uneasy with my attention," he whispered, eyes widening in shock.

Legolas shifted uncomfortably on the sill. His failure to disabuse Elrohir of his suspicion was a sharp blow to the darkling Elf. He shook his head in frustration.

"The workings of your reasoning are mind-boggling," he remarked dryly. "You were cool and collected when Estel caught me in your room with every evidence of our night's coupling in plain sight. How is it that a simple act I have done for centuries should now discompose you?"

"I do not know why," Legolas murmured. "It just did."

Elrohir narrowed his eyes. "I think I know," he said, softly but sharply. "'Twas embarrassing enough for him to have learned about us by accident. But to have him personally witness our intimacy is beyond your forbearance. You do not wish for him to see how capable you are of responding to my pleasuring be it in bed-play or otherwise. You would have him still regard you as the loyal companion of the Quest whose heart remained untouched by any but him. That was the true reason why you did not wish to let him know about us, not my duty to Gondor or Eldarion."

The blue eyes met his, a mutinous glow in their depths. Elrohir knew he was treading dangerous grounds for Legolas' pride was second to none. But he was so incensed by his discovery that he did not care about the consequences of pursuing the matter further.

"That first morning must have galled you though you certainly concealed it well," he taunted. "Tell me, Legolas, who is it that you think of when we couple? Is it his name that you would cry out in ecstasy were it not for my presence?"

Legolas leaped to his feet, his eyes blazing furiously. "You will not speak to me in so base a manner!" he growled. "I am not yours, Elrohir, you have no right to question me."

Elrohir glared back at him. "Of course not," he snapped angrily. "For I am only a friend and an unacknowledged lover whose feelings obviously no longer mean anything to you."

He spun on his heel and moved to leave the chamber, heart beating wildly with barely suppressed ire and the beginnings of anguish and dread. But a strong hand caught him by the arm and he was compelled to turn around to face the archer.

Contrite eyes met his. Legolas bowed his head in shame. "I am sorry, I did not intend to demean you," he murmured.

Elrohir swallowed past the ache in his throat. "Do not apologize," he said at length. "You were only reacting to what I said. 'Tis I who should beg forgiveness."

The archer lifted his head and gazed at the Elf-knight. He could not fail to discern how heavy of heart Elrohir was because of what had just occurred.

"Nay, I drove you to it with my witless charge." He drew in a deep breath. "You are right. I feel uneasy whenever you behave so – so familiarly with me in front of Aragorn. He knew nothing about us until now and, I must confess, I led him to believe that none had ever gained my affections as he did. I saw it as my gift to him, foolish as that may sound, since I knew his heart belonged to Arwen." He winced as he saw the pain flicker across Elrohir's countenance.

"Then I will not do it again."

The words were uttered with such defeat that guilt struck Legolas to the core. In one stroke, he had stripped the joy from what had been an act of affection for so many centuries.

"I did not mean for you to stop," he protested.

"Then what do you mean?" Elrohir asked in frustration. He shook his head. "I no longer know what to do or say that you will not condemn as wrong," he honestly said. "I expected that whatever I did in love would be put to the test. But it seems that even what I have always done as a friend is just as objectionable to you." His proud shoulders slumped tiredly. "I had better go. I would not have you discomfited anew should Estel choose to visit you and find me here."

There was no sarcasm or recrimination in his statement. It was painfully clear that he was trying to grant the archer's professed wish. His desolate demeanor breached Legolas' shields for a moment and the prince acted instinctively to assuage the hurt he had caused the other. He reached up and cupped the Elf-knight's face in his hands.

"I am truly sorry, Aduial. Do not go. Please stay," he whispered before pressing his lips against the other's warm mouth.

Elrohir hesitated, torn between his desire for the prince and the impulse to break away and flee his treacherous yearnings. He knew deep inside that this was but a respite from their increasingly fractious relationship. But he also admitted that he did not have the strength to resist what Legolas offered so temptingly. Resignedly, he allowed himself to take what joy he could from the archer's unbidden attentions.

_To be continued_…


	85. Calenlass 11 Forebodings

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter X: Forebodings  
The Harad delegation presented itself to the King bearing gifts and words of goodwill. The ambassador was a Man of great stature and dignity who drew the respect and approval of the many lords and counsellors who had gathered in the great hall. All that is except for the tall _Edhel_ who stood at Aragorn's side and eyed the Southrons with unease.

Elrohir did not quite understand his misgivings about the Swertings. They seemed peaceful enough, spoke the proper words and made the right gestures. But he could not dispel his distrust of them. He wondered if he was not being unreasonably prejudiced against them.

He took a quick glance about the hall. Aragorn was seated upon his throne with Eldarion to his right. Elrohir, as befitted his status as the King's brother, stood to Aragorn's left. At the sides were gathered several vassals and advisors of the King.

The most telling absences were those of Imrahil of Dol Amroth and Faramir, Steward of Gondor. Both men were headed for Rhûn on a diplomatic mission at the express invitation of one of the Easterling nations. Interesting, Elrohir thought. Had the Haradrim arrived on time, both Imrahil and Faramir would not yet have departed for the east. He wondered if there had been any collusion between the Easterlings and Southrons to ensure that Elessar's most trusted and staunchest supporters would not be present to sway those of less certitude in their opinions.

He swiftly dismissed the idea. There was no love lost between these two lands at present. Not since Harad duped several eastern tribes into parting with precious oils and rare silks and paid them far less than was agreed upon. War had nearly erupted if a sudden drought had not struck the unfortunate Easterlings' lands. Nay, the men of Rhûn would not care to cooperate with the Swertings. More likely someone in court had simply tipped off the Southrons to delay their arrival. Who knew what rewards had been promised if the resulting treaty was to Harad's advantage? Treachery was not unknown even in these supposedly enlightened days. Not when ambition reared its ugly head.

The Imladrin Elf glanced to his right. There, standing unobtrusively with his arms crossed, was the Lord of Eryn Gael. Legolas had done his utmost to avoid drawing attention to himself. He had silently slipped into the hall and taken his place behind the others before anyone realized he was present. Elrohir studied his friend's expression.

Legolas' mien mirrored his own. The prince was also distrustful of the Southrons. Elrohir paid closer attention to the Harad ambassador. It was not so much what he was saying but how he was behaving that intrigued the dark-haired Elf. He was simply too amenable to everything Aragorn and his counsellors were demanding. It did not sit right with the son of Elrond.

Yet the men of Gondor seemed all too eager to treat with the Southrons. They wanted peace so badly they were quite ready to set aside the accumulated caution and distrust of centuries past.

The following days of negotiation did nothing to dispel his misgivings. Matters were hurried along instead of discussed at length. He would not have been surprised had they begun at once to pressure Aragorn into making decisions soonest. He supposed it had much to do with the briefness of mortal life.

An Elf could bide his time before making a decision for he had an eternity in which to do so. But Men in their short lifetimes did not have that luxury. What they desired they sought much more quickly than was sometimes wise or prudent. That was perilous to his thinking but he had no solid evidence to back up his apprehensions about the Haradrim's terms.

By the fourth day, he'd had his fill of their unseemly haste. As always he remained by Aragorn's side while Legolas stayed on the sidelines, never saying a word but simply watching and listening.

Elrohir felt a chill creep up his spine as the Harad diplomat oh so gently pressed Aragorn to accede to the treaty conditions. The king was not inclined to make a hasty choice but he was also cognizant of his nobles' leanings. King he may be of Gondor but that did not mean he could run roughshod over his people's wishes. The line of Isildur was too recently restored for Elessar to recklessly have his way. He would have to tread delicately, seek a balance between their wants and his own natural caution. In this he relied on his most trusted advisors for help.

Not for the last time did Elrohir think it a pity that neither Imrahil nor Faramir were present. Once more he paid minute attention to what was being discussed, trying to read between the lines of the Southrons' amiable spiels.

The ambassador was saying something about the benefits of trade between Gondor and Harad. "There is much we can offer your people, Majesty, as I am sure there is much you might want from us. It would be advantageous for both our realms to open our borders to each other. Imagine the opportunity for economic prosperity."

The attending nobles and counsellors were nodding in agreement. It sounded logical of course. But Elrohir did not care for the logic of it. What he was watching out for was possible treachery behind the smooth persuasive words. Open their borders to each other?

He flicked his eyes to Legolas. The prince's eyes were riveted on the ambassador, his expression a mask. Warning bells set off in Elrohir's mind. So did Legolas look in public when he suspected something was seriously wrong. The more impassive his features, the more suspicious he was.

"Under the terms of this treaty, we would allow safe passage for our merchants and other tradesmen when they travel to our respective kingdoms," the ambassador explained. "Eventually, our peoples may even choose to migrate from one realm to the other thus forging even closer ties between our nations. After all, there are those of Edain blood in our realm, the heritage passed down from our rulers of old. It would be a chance to unite your race once more, would it not?"

Elrohir's eyes narrowed. He glanced at Aragorn and caught his eye. The King raised a quizzical eyebrow at the Elf's silent request, then nodded his acquiescence. Elrohir turned his eyes back to the delegation. He addressed the ambassador.

"Excellency, I would ask of you one thing." He maintained an even tone that revealed nothing of his thoughts. The Southron turned to him expectantly then started when he realized he was facing the king's Elven foster brother. Elrohir permitted himself a small smile. "You speak of safe passage for our peoples. But how are we to determine who are on legitimate business or not? Shall we ask that our tradesmen subject their wares to inspection at the borders?"

The ambassador smiled ingratiatingly at the Elf-lord. "But of course, my lord. We would have to set up ports of entrance for this purpose. Ours in Umbar for example and yours in Pelargir mayhap."

Elrohir leveled a stare at the Man. Something was not quite right.

"And once within our respective borders, I suppose they are to be allowed free movement anywhere?" he asked.

"Well, that is the purpose of trade, is it not?" the ambassador reasoned. Seeing the skepticism in the Elf-warrior's eyes, he added, "Is my lord worried about espionage and other such dealings?"

"Should we not all be?" Elrohir asked with a smile that was as dry as a scorched dessert.

One of the nobles frowned and interrupted the exchange. It was none other than the ambitious Gethron. "My Lord Elrohir, this is an attempt to establish peace between our kingdoms. How are we to accomplish this if we immediately suspect our guests of duplicity?"

Elrohir flicked an icy look at the man. "I, too, seek peace for our lands," he said. "But I would count the cost first before making the purchase."

Aragorn placed a soothing hand on his foster brother's arm. "Your concern is valid, _gwanur_," he said diplomatically. "We will study the matter before making any firm commitments. But the terms seem fair enough and it would serve Gondor well to have trade relations with other kingdoms."

"Besides, the Haradrim are not alike to us," remarked a counsellor called Duindor. "Just as we have not been able to penetrate deep into their territory, so will they be conspicuous within ours. Any that should linger where they are not supposed to would be immediately noticed."

Many others apparently agreed with this observation. It was true to a great extent. The Swertings were swarthier of skin and blacker of hair than the people of the Reunited Kingdom. They could never be mistaken for citizens of Gondor. The physical differences were too acute.

Elrohir scowled when he saw where the consensus was heading. He glanced at Legolas. The prince's expression was positively frozen.

He thought furiously. Something niggled at the back of his mind. The ambassador had mentioned something about the race of the Men of Gondor being united once more. And what was it Duindor had said about their differences? His grey eyes darkened dangerously.

He knew now what questions to ask but he realized he was not the person to do it. He had expressed his distrust earlier on and anything he did would be subject to doubt if not outright disbelief. He swiftly but quietly voiced his suspicions to Aragorn. The king frowned in consternation.

"We must find a way to prove this," he murmured. Elrohir nodded then looked at the archer again.

Legolas felt his stare and met his eyes. Abruptly, Elrohir knew they were of like mind on the matter. And he also realized that the task of unraveling the Haradrim's deceit would have to fall to the fair-haired archer.

Gondor's nobles might envy the Elven prince his proximity to Gondor's royal family and crave it for themselves, but few questioned his loyalty to the kingdom. Furthermore, in keeping silent so far and remaining out of sight, he had managed to maintain outward neutrality and therefore his credibility. Most would believe him and that was all Elrohir needed. He placed a warning hand on Aragorn's arm; merely waited for the king's slight nod before acting.

"Excellency," he said abruptly, cutting through a discussion regarding the types of goods and services that they would allow to be exchanged. "Would you subject yourself to a test?" he asked pleasantly. He sensed the court's curious glances on him but did not remove his eyes from the Southron ambassador.

"A test?" the Man repeated, black eyebrows rising questioningly.

"Aye," Elrohir replied. "It would be a gesture of goodwill on your part to our King."

"What would you test me for, my lord?" the Man asked a little uncertainly.

"Why, your veracity of course."

A concerted gasp followed his words. The Haradrim were obviously outraged while the men of Gondor turned disapproving stares on the Elvenlord. How could he treat a diplomatic delegation with such disrespect?

Elrohir was unperturbed. "Is it too great a price to pay for unlimited trust between our peoples?" he reasoned. "Come now, do you not wish to establish relations between these two great realms soonest?"

"Majesty, this is insupportable—" Gethron began to growl.

Aragorn held up a hand to forestall the baron. He nodded at the ambassador. "We await your answer," he said.

The Swerting bristled. "I had thought the Edain of Gondor men of honor and civility," he said. "But though I am much offended by your methods, Lord Elf, I will accept your _test_ for the sake of the success of these negotiations." He straightened up proudly.

Elrohir's answering smile did not reach his eyes. "I would ask Prince Legolas to assist us," he said, flicking his gaze to the prince.

Legolas inhaled sharply as all eyes turned to him. Uttering an elvish curse beneath his breath, he made his way to the dais. As Legolas took his place before the man, Elrohir stepped down from the dais to take a position slightly to his side behind him.

The Southron found himself confronted with two pairs of penetrating eyes, one dark azure, the other twilight grey. Elrohir said, "You need only answer his questions. Speak the truth and there will be no need for concern."

The man wondered what the Elf meant. He had never dealt with the Firstborn before. All he had were the tales and superstitions about these strange beings that had been passed down through generations. Were they going to use magic on him? Did they use magic at all? He stared at the golden-haired Elf and found he could not tear his eyes away from the other's unnerving stare.

"Do all Haradrim look as you do?" Legolas asked.

The ambassador was startled by the unexpected query. "Of course, we all look alike," he could not help snapping.

"You lie," Legolas said flatly. The ambassador gasped at the intensity of his blue gaze. He felt himself begin to sweat.

"I do not know what you mean," he stuttered. It was difficult to maintain one's composure in the face of that elvish stare. "We are of one race. If there are any differences amongst us, it is minimal at best."

"I think not," Legolas said. "You spoke of Edain blood flowing in the veins of some of your people."

"What of it?" the man scowled. "As _you_ well know, in ancient times there was some mingling of blood between our peoples."

"Then you are _not_ of one race. There are those among you who would not pass as Haradrim but as Gondorrim."

More gasps followed this assertion. The Southron glared at the Elven prince. "This is outrageous! How dare you treat me in this manner. I am a diplomatic representative of my—"

"Answer my question," Legolas cut in with ominous gentleness. The threat behind his voice paralyzed the man.

"Well, I – I suppose—" he stammered.

"And if they were to come as tradesmen and gain safe passage into this land, they would be able to mingle quite freely amongst its people with no one the wiser."

"I-I – that is absurd!"

"Is it? Look me in the eye, Man of Harad, and tell me you do not lie."

The Swerting swallowed hard as he was forced to stare into the eyes of the Elf. They were painfully piercing. Few there were who could withstand that awful knowing stare. The ambassador was not such a man. He began to wilt before the prince and his tongue suddenly turned thick in his mouth. Sweat poured down his face as if he were in the midst of a furnace.

Legolas very quietly stated: "Thus would you sow the populations of the Reunited Kingdom with Men loyal to Harad and bide your time until they were well entrenched and swollen in numbers even should it take a generation or more. And when the time was ripe they would rise up against us and you would invade Gondor from without and within. Tell me I am wrong, Southron."

The man shuddered as the Elf's stare seemed to bore into his very soul. He whimpered and then moaned. With a strangled gasp he tore his eyes away. But the damage was done. He had not been able to speak. His deceit had been laid bare for all to see.

Aragorn's face was still but his eyes were bright with anger. "I believe there is nothing more to discuss," he said in a glacial tone. "I will give you safe passage to our borders and you will tell your masters that Gondor does not treat with treacherous vermin."

The proceedings broke up in an uproar with the very men who had earlier advised cooperation with the Haradrim now calling for their heads. The guards swiftly hustled away the Southron delegation before the more intemperate chose to express their anger through violent means.

Elrohir heaved a sigh of relief. He looked for Legolas and was surprised to see the prince already exiting the hall. After a hurried consultation with Aragorn he hurried after his friend. He espied him rapidly traversing the passageway leading to the royal pavilion. Elrohir raced after him wondering why Legolas had left the hall so precipitately.

"Legolas!"

The prince came to a halt in the middle of the corridor and waited for the other Elf to catch up with him. Elrohir was shocked at the expression on his face. Legolas was furious. It showed in his blazing eyes and tightened lips.

"You should not have asked me to question him!" he almost spat out. "Do you never listen to me, _Edhel_?"

Elrohir stared. "We needed to know the truth," he protested. "'Twas the only way to find out."

"You could have done it yourself. There was no need to use me."

"Nay, I could not do it. The others already knew of my distrust of the Haradrim. They would have suspected me of manipulating the man. But you were above suspicion in that regard."

Legolas glared at him. "If you had not revealed your feelings so hastily there would have been no need for my services," he snapped. "For a supposedly seasoned diplomat you committed the most serious blunder of all!"

Elrohir glared back at him. "Mayhap I made a mistake," he conceded angrily. "But why should that matter now? We have what we wanted."

"And you have undone what I have striven for in the last eight years! Aragorn's nobles will now suspect me more than ever of currying favor with him and wielding influence beyond what is proper. And they will think me capable of unholy means of persuasion as well."

"They would say the same of me had I undertaken the task," Elrohir growled. "What difference would it make whether they suspect one Elf or another?"

"You are his beloved kinsman," Legolas pointed out. "You are expected to do everything in your power to aid him. You would not be suspected of trying to control the King for your own purposes. But I do not have that luxury and you have thus placed me in a most uncomfortable position!"

With that, he turned his back on the dark-haired Elf and strode off. Elrohir stared after him with impotent rage. He clenched his fists spasmodically before ramming one into the stone wall beside him with such force it crumbled the masonry and left a shallow crater in its wake.

He was still in a foul mood that evening as the family gathered for the evening meal. For once, he did not seek to stay by Legolas but chose the seat farthest from the Elven prince. It was not that he had taken his criticism hard. He did not doubt the truth of his friend's harsh words nor was he of the nature to disregard them just because they were not to his liking.

What had hurt him was the manner in which Legolas had confronted him. To be attacked so scathingly by one he loved dearly was too painful to swallow with any equanimity at all. Especially when it was suggested that he had been careless and callous at the same time.

Had there been another present who could have forced the truth from the Southron, he would have used him instead. But there had been none and he had not been about to urge the King himself to take on the task. There were certain things in which Aragorn had to maintain strict neutrality.

But Legolas had not given him a chance to present his side. And having lashed out so brusquely at him had pointedly turned his back on him and left him to stew. And he purposely avoided Elrohir for the rest of the afternoon as well much to the latter's frustration. He would not even give me a chance to apologize, much less explain myself and set things right, the Elf-warrior fumed to himself. So much for friendship!

For the better part of the meal, he devoted himself to entertaining Eldarion's endless questions regarding what had happened earlier as well as enduring Arwen's alarmed queries as to the state of his badly bruised knuckles. He did not trust himself to look at Legolas lest he lose either his temper or his pride. The first would occur if the other returned his look with enmity or contempt. The second if Elrohir found his desire to be with the prince greater than his anger. He decided he did not need the added aggravation of either response.

Nevertheless, his mood turned melancholic as the evening wore on. His instincts were proving all too correct. _How much longer before...?_

By the time the meal ended, he only wanted to retire to his chamber and wrestle with his troubled thoughts in solitude. However, Arwen detained him as everyone else departed. But since his sister's reason for delaying him was to inquire about the state of his heart, he could hardly cut her short, especially when she made it clear that she knew about his renewed relationship with the woodland prince.

"You gave him your ring," she smiled knowingly.

He sighed. "A mistake it seems."

Her smile faded slightly. "A mistake? But he wears it."

"Perforce." When the Queen's face registered perplexity, he explained, "I made it clear 'twas not to pressure him into a choice but I suppose it was too much to ask that he would not feel trapped by my gift." He let out a weary breath.

Arwen peered at him wonderingly, all her sisterly concern coming to the fore. "Tell me what has happened, Elrohir," she urged. "I wish to help you."

Knowing she would not relent until he told her of his worries, he confessed to her his fears, starting with the encounter on the battlement and ending with their spat over his handling of the Harad incident. Something had changed between him and Legolas.

Legolas was marking virtually every error he made. And there was a distance between them that had not been there previously. He had tried to bridge the gap but felt a barrier firmly in place. There had never been one before.

"His heart is resisting me and every false step I make is being adjudged against me," he painfully told her.

"He would not do that to you, _muindor_"—brother—Arwen tried to soothe him.

Her distress showed in her expressive eyes. She had thought her brother's love returned; so sure had she been of this after observing Legolas since learning of the state of affairs between him and the younger twin. Had she misread the prince so completely? Since when had her perceptiveness been so blunted?

Elrohir smiled sadly. "A trapped creature will strike out with whatever advantage it possesses in order to regain its freedom."

Arwen was aghast. "Surely, Legolas would not hurt one as dear to him as you," she protested. "And why should he guard his heart against you? You were ever his best friend. He trusts you with his very life."

Elrohir shook his head. "A friend is different from a lover. A friend need not give all of himself but a lover must. A lover is far more vulnerable than any friend and therefore knows more pain. In truth, he swore before Elladan and me that he would never give his heart to anyone."

Arwen was taken aback by this revelation. But her conviction regarding what she had discerned of the archer's feelings refused to falter. "He yields to you," she pointed out. "Surely that means that he cares."

"I am always _meldir_ or _gwador_ to him," Elrohir said pensively. "Never _melethron_. Nor will he suffer me to address him as a lover would. The one time I did, he was so unwilling that I have desisted from doing so since." At her disbelieving reaction, he added: "What the body feels is fleeting. But the heart remembers all too well. Legolas is willing to be pleasured for that can be set aside and forgotten at will. His heart he fears to venture lest the giving of it renders him weak and helpless." He hesitated. "And even now his demeanor in bed has changed."

"How has it changed?" Arwen queried in puzzlement.

"In Ithilien, he did not merely respond to me but took a more active role in our couplings. But here, now—" Elrohir let out a frustrated exhalation of breath. "He rarely allows me go to his room but insists on coming to mine."

"But what is wrong with that," Arwen asked in confusion, "if he continues to seek your bed?"

"Only to leave it at daybreak, oft times even before I awaken," Elrohir said somberly. At Arwen's start of dismay, he bit his lip and said," And lately he just – lies there as if he were merely doing me a favor—"

He stopped then, averting his eyes from his sister, his pale cheeks staining. He never spoke so bluntly about such matters save with Elladan and, until recently, Legolas. But Arwen radiated so much love and concern that she broke down his walls of reserve. And having started, he found he no longer had the will or pride to desist. Too long had he kept his hurt to himself.

"I do not know what do," he murmured. "I am losing him if I have not already done so."

"Nay, that will not happen," she objected. "Legolas cannot be such a fool as to let you slip through his fingers."

The twin gave a harsh laugh that startled his sister. "That is exactly what _he_ said!" he exclaimed. "And I trusted his sincerity, believed his words to be true. Now I do not know what to trust or believe save for my instincts." He quivered visibly. "He is just waiting for me to break," he whispered.

"What do you mean?" she asked in alarm.

"I am not blind as to why he is so tender at times and unbearably harsh at others. He fears to hurt me yet cannot stop himself from doing what he must to drive me away. He is pushing my tolerance to its limits in the hope that I will finally lose my patience and thereby free him. He would have me be the one to end it that he need not be burdened by the guilt of my grief."

"How could he be so cruel," Arwen whispered.

"Nay, not cruel. Never that," Elrohir demurred. "I would not have anyone think him capable of evil or malice. He is only afraid. I chose to pursue this course," he softly pointed out. "I will bear the consequences of my decision. If I have one regret, 'tis that in declaring myself to him I have also ended our friendship. It will not survive should we part ways now for he will wish to forget what passed between us. Sooner or late, I will be nothing to him beyond a memory of what once was."

He spoke the last words with such sadness that it wrenched his sister's heart.

"He loves you," Arwen stubbornly insisted, refusing to believe that her reading of the woodland prince had been so false. "I can see it in his eyes, hear it when he speaks of you. 'Tis only because he cannot admit it to himself that he withholds himself from you. But you can make him see the truth in his heart, Elrohir."

"'Tis not so simple as that," he said. "If it were only a matter of persuading him to give me a chance, it would not be so daunting. But he also resists me because he cannot let go of his love for someone else."

Arwen blinked in disbelief. "He loves another? Who?"

Elrohir shook his head. "I cannot tell you. All I can reveal is that this love is not free, which is why Legolas deigned to turn to me at all. I want to believe that 'tis but an infatuation on his part, born of great respect and admiration. But whatever the truth of his feelings for this one other, it looms like a shadow over our relationship and I am powerless to dispel it. I cannot fight a war on two fronts, Arwen," he finished hopelessly.

The Queen stubbornly persisted. "I cannot conceive of him clinging to an unattainable love when he had vowed to close his heart to any love at all," she reasoned. "Do not give up, Elrohir. Legolas will eventually see the error of his ways and then you will find your just reward and your joy. Surely that is worth fighting for."

He did not try to counter her but only added: "Arwen, say nothing of this to Estel or Eldarion. I would not have them turn against him on my account."

She stared at him, awed that he would protect the very one who was breaking his heart. On that note, they parted for the night.

He proceeded to his room, his shoulders drooping as his spirits sank ever deeper. He was so deep in thought that he failed to notice that someone awaited him in his chamber until that someone spoke up.

"You are still upset."

Elrohir visibly started. He let his breath out as he focused on the fair-haired archer. "What are you doing here?" he asked a little crossly.

Legolas raised a golden eyebrow at the less than friendly tone of the twin. "I thought I was always welcome here," he replied quietly.

Elrohir stared at him. Then he bit his lip and said, "You are. But I did not think you would want my company tonight. You made it quite clear what you thought of me."

Legolas shook his head. "I was angry. I did not mean to be so harsh with you." He hesitated then took hold of the twin's injured fist. "How did you come to hurt your hand?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb gently over the purpled skin before brushing his lips against the bruise.

Elrohir tamped down on the involuntary shiver the caress sent coursing through his limbs. "I punched a wall," he muttered. He pulled his hand away, not trusting himself to remain collected enough to have his say. "I do not blame you for being angry nor do I take exception to your harshness," he said. "I have done worse to you in the past and always received your pardon after. It is your lack of trust and confidence in me that wounds me. It pains me that you would believe me insensitive to your wishes."

He moved past the prince to look out his window. It was more soothing to look out at the darkness than gaze at the one who had such a vise-like hold on his emotions.

"I never intended to ask any service of you. I only wanted to protect Estel and Gondor. If in doing so I have jeopardized your position in any way, then you have every right to castigate me and I hope you will forgive me." He glanced back at Legolas, his eyes somber. "Not that it will matter. You have already deemed me incompetent and unworthy of your regard."

The last sentences were uttered so tonelessly that it emphasized his discouragement even more distinctly. He turned back to stare at the dark outside. Moments later, he felt the other's arms curl around him from behind; shivered as his warm breath brushed his nape.

Legolas murmured: "That is not true, Aduial."

"Is it not?" Elrohir whispered.

"For you to doubt me proves how deeply I hurt you," the prince said regretfully. "I am sorry. I was not completely in the right in this matter either. There are gentler ways of getting a point across and in letting my anger rule me I failed you as well. Please, I would not have this come between us."

He coaxed the twin into facing him and drew him into a heartfelt embrace. Elrohir hugged him back, savoring their renewed closeness. But something marred his enjoyment of it and he could not completely dispel his earlier forebodings.

He sighed to himself. Ordinarily, the prince's words and actions should have smoothed away all his doubts and fears. But tonight, the weight remained in his heart. For the first time, he accepted the possibility that this was a battle he might not win. He knew the price of losing could be his very life. But he also knew that he could not stop himself from loving his Greenleaf no matter the cost.

Glossary:  
Edhel (pl. Edhil) – Elf  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
meldir - friend  
gwador - sworn brother  
melethron - m. lover

_To be continued_…


	86. Calenlass 12 Guarded Heart

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XI: Guarded Heart  
_Ivanneth_ F.A. 21  
If Elrohir had thought his burden heavy enough, he was disabused of this assumption two mornings later. Hardly had he stepped out of his chamber when the King accosted him. Aragorn insisted they break their fast together but, to the Elf's surprise, they were the only ones to enter the cozy dining alcove. Evidently, his foster brother wanted to have a word with him in private.

Aragorn only waited for their meal to be served and the servants to depart before he broached his concerns.

"Legolas has begged leave of me to return to Ithilien," he began.

Elrohir nodded. "He is not comfortable with the way your vassals behave towards him. I wish you would school them to be more civil, Estel. 'Tis not right that they should suspect him of malice or ambition."

"I am aware of their actions," Aragorn said. "But 'tis no simple matter to change people's minds. Legolas will have to bide his time until they learn their lesson." He looked pointedly at the twin. "But he is not my concern this morning, Elrohir. I would remind you of your pledge to Eldarion and me."

Elrohir stared at him. "And I have kept my pledge," he replied. "Why should you bring this up now?"

Aragorn frowned. "Is it true that you plan to return to Ithilien with him?"

Elegant eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I had thought of it," he answered. "Why should it concern you?"

"This last time you stayed away more than a month," Aragorn said. "How long will you dwell there this time?"

"I have not decided," Elrohir admitted. "Mayhap through the winter months. I do not know yet."

"Then what becomes of your pledge?" the King pressed him. "I see you are eager to leave. To quit this court and seek solitude with your chosen one."

Elrohir's eyes narrowed at his foster brother's choice of words. "I cannot deny what you saw with your own eyes, " he said. "But I have shared many a bed in all my years. Why should you mark this affair as different?"

"Arwen told me of what passed between you long before I was born," Aragorn wryly replied, "And I have seen for myself these many days how besotted you are with him."

"And if I am?" Elrohir countered. "What have my feelings to do with my pledge to you?"

"Everything if it means you will forsake your duties and obligations to me and my son," Aragorn said. "You are already spending far less time with Eldarion than was your wont. You have just returned and already you think of leaving."

"Estel, I have been at your side and Eldarion's for the past two decades," Elrohir pointed out. "I have spent more years in Gondor than with my own brother in Imladris which is a marvel in itself as we were never apart for so long before you became King. Do you now begrudge me some time for myself?"

Aragorn fell silent. Elrohir sighed. "Elessar, my pledge to you is true. I would never turn my back on Gondor. But I have also been lonely far too long. You know of what I speak for you knew what it meant to be bereft of love ere you won your Undómiel."

Aragorn looked at his foster brother a little guiltily. "You are right," he admitted. "I demand too much of you. But if I do, 'tis because you are a pillar of strength to me, _gwanur nîn_. And Eldarion adores you and is always distressed by your prolonged absences."

Elrohir exhaled resignedly. "I will curtail my sojourn in Ithilien if that will reassure you," he said.

Aragorn did not respond at once. "I would rather you did not go," he said quietly at length. "I would not have talk arise about your closeness to Legolas."

Elrohir let out a gust of humorless mirth. "That is what you truly wanted to say," he remarked. "You could have been more direct, Estel, instead of taking so many twists and turns to get to the point." He frowned. "Legolas has spoken to you, hasn't he." He did not frame the sentence as a question but as a statement.

Aragorn nodded. "He is concerned about such talk getting out of hand. I understand you had an unpleasant encounter with Lord Gethron precisely because of this issue."

"Gethron will malign anything if he thought it hindered his ambitions," Elrohir snorted. "The encounter came about because he accused Legolas of seeking to corrupt me, not because he knew the nature of our relationship. I swore I would be discreet. I think I have not broken my word yet."

"Not wittingly, no," Aragorn said. "But you have always been expressive, Elrohir. I have presumed that Legolas' people know about you and him and that other than them and our family, no one else does. At least, for now. But should any look closer... Well, any person with his wits about him would see how deeply you care for him."

"What would that matter?" Elrohir suddenly spat out. "If they had their wits about them, it would also be clear to them that they have nothing to fear. They would see that he does not return it!"

Aragorn's eyes widened in shock. "I did not know," he gasped. "I assumed—"

"Because he agrees to lie with me?" Elrohir laughed bitterly. "Guarded heart, soul of steel, he chooses like a miser whom he would gift with his regard." When Aragorn looked at him in bewilderment, he added venomously, "You know of what I speak, fortunate enough as you were to gain a little of what meager affection he is willing to dole out."

Aragorn flinched at the sudden attack. "'Twas but affection born of the perils we faced, Elrohir," he protested. "Nothing more happened between us."

"Nothing but what mattered most," Elrohir retorted sharply, rising from his seat.

Aragorn swiftly clasped his Elf-brother's hand placatingly. "_Gwanur_, do not turn against me! What I feel for Legolas is naught but deep friendship. I seek nothing more of him. The Quest is long past and Arwen is all I desire and always will be."

The king held tight to his kinsman's wrist and gazed at him pleadingly. At length, Elrohir heaved a shuddering sigh then took his seat once more.

"Forgive me, Estel," he said more quietly. "I am overwrought and have foisted my anger on you. I know you mean well and that you are only concerned about everyone's welfare."

"I am sorry, too," Aragorn murmured. "Had I known I would be rubbing salt into wounds I would not have spoken." Wishing to soothe the Elf, he discarded whatever kingly demeanor he bore and spoke to him as the younger brother of their days in Imladris.

"_Tôr iuar_, I know Legolas' regard for me rose during the War and I cannot deny that I was pleased for I had always admired him and to have his esteem was no small thing to me. Nor can I pretend that I do not find him beautiful. Who does not? But I never encouraged him, never desired more from him than the love between war-brothers. Indeed, I was dismayed when he implied he felt otherwise for my heart has ever belonged to Arwen from the day I first saw her."

He frowned in frustration when his foster brother's spirits did not lift. He tried another tack. "This love he professes for me does not strike me as true," he mused skeptically. "For one who claims heartache from its loss, he has recovered quite remarkably in your more than capable hands."

He felt some relief when faint color stained the twin's cheeks. "Does it matter?" Elrohir finally responded. "Whether or not 'tis love he feels for you, it does not change the fact that he does not care to return mine."

"He will yet, I am certain of it. You should not give up hope, Elrohir. If ever there was one who could truly win his heart, that would be you."

Elrohir could only manage a forlorn smile at his human brother's attempts to comfort him. "I know not if I have the strength," he sighed. "But better to die in the trying than to never try at all."

Aragorn snorted. "I cannot conceive of anyone resisting your charms," he said. "Indeed, had I been an Elf, who knows were my childhood attachment to you might have led? I thought you the most splendid creature and counted myself fortunate that you were so fond of me. My fascination with you so worried _Ada_ Elrond that Elladan decided to do something about it." He grinned mischievously at Elrohir's obvious surprise. "He never told you? 'Twas the reason he took me whoring in the Bree-land long before my majority!"

That elicited a gasped chuckle from Elrohir. "You shock me, Estel!"

"You? Shocked?" Aragorn laughed, pleased at having distracted Elrohir from his troubles. "I would think nothing could shock you any longer!" He popped a grape into his mouth.

"Nothing but my little brother hinting he felt more than fraternal love for me!"

Aragorn nearly gagged on the grape. "I said had I been an Elf!" he retorted indignantly.

The Elf-knight's grey eyes sparkled wickedly. "Be grateful then that you are not," he drawled. "Else I might have taken it upon myself to educate you in such matters. You were ever a comely child and one I would have gladly taken to my bed had you but asked."

He grinned, good humor restored, when the King turned red and started to choke and splutter at his outrageous words before realizing his foster brother had neatly trapped him in a tease.

"Really, you should not blush, Estel _nîn_, it does not become you!"

oOoOoOo

While Elrohir's breakfast discussion with Aragorn drew to an amiable close, the object of the Elf-knight's affections wandered around the small, enclosed garden behind the residential pavilion. He did not enjoy the confined spaces of Minas Tirith and often came to this sanctuary to seek respite from the never-ending stone walls and paths of the Guarded City. Yet even here one did not feel completely in unity with nature. There was nothing like an open forest or sprawling garden to refresh the elven spirit.

After a long while, he sank down upon a bench and let his thoughts roam. He ruminated over what had passed between him and Elrohir two days ago. The darkling Elf had uttered words that Legolas could not ignore. I do not mean to judge him and yet it springs up unbidden, Legolas mused.

He had tried to console his lover the other night; tried to erase the fear he saw in the other's eyes. In that he had failed. The ardor had been there but it was restrained. It was as if Elrohir was already preparing himself for rejection and grief.

Legolas quailed inwardly at the idea. I yielded years ago to spare him this yet now it seems it will come to pass whether we will it or not, he thought. Yet try as he might, the archer could not rid himself of his fearful, almost habitual evasion of emotional entanglement and commitment.

"A _mithril_-coat for your thoughts, _ernilen_."—my prince.

Legolas started then laughed ruefully as Arwen came around from behind him and sat down on the other side of the bench. "You are as stealthy as a Ranger, _gwathel_"—sworn sister—he smiled.

She giggled and shook her head. "Nay, you were only too sunk in your thoughts," she said. "Dark thoughts, it would seem from the look on your face."

"I am only concerned with duties I have left untended in Ithilien while I tarry here."

"And I am but an ignorant Shire maiden," she twinkled. "Really, _mellon nîn_, do you think you can hide your worries from me? I do not think you have enough energy to try."

Legolas wryly grinned. Useless to try and pretend with Arwen. She would badger him until he told the truth. Better to get it over with now.

"Is it about Elrohir?" Arwen asked to help him get started.

"Aye," the prince admitted. "I do not know what to do about our – situation."

Arwen looked at him then softly said, "Because you believe you cannot return his love, Legolas?" The archer stared at her in surprise. Arwen shook her head sadly. "He has told me so and when I look for evidence for his fear, 'tis not hard to discern why," she murmured. "I feel his sorrow and see your resistance."

"My resistance?"

"Aye, _gwador_, you are so fearful of stumbling into the abyss of true love that you shield your heart so fervently. Whenever he feels its coldness I see how he flinches inside. I imagine that even in the throes of passion he knows no true warmth."

Legolas drew his breath in sharply. "I – I am sorry, _meldisen_. I never meant to hurt him."

"I know you do not and so does he," she gently replied. "Why else do you think does he hold steadfast though he breaks inside?"

Legolas suddenly felt a wave of frustration wash over him. "He is not a fragile piece of glass that you should handle so delicately," he said. "I would that he were of sterner stuff instead of holding me hostage to his need."

Arwen's eyes widened. A sudden glint of anger shone in their depths. "You call my brother weak?" she demanded. "A warrior of valor and great loyalty who has served those he loves so well! I did not think you capable of such scorn, Legolas!"

"I was not referring to his strength in battle but his strength within," Legolas replied. "He should not be so tender of heart that he cannot endure its breaking."

Arwen stared at him with a frown. "Is there any who can withstand a broken heart?" she pointed out. "Name one whom you deem so strong."

Legolas hesitated. "Well, Aragorn for one." He hastened to explain at Arwen's surprised reaction. "I never saw him falter during the Quest, even when we were at the edge of despair. His heart is stronger than that of any _Edhel_ I have known."

"You compare Elrohir to my lord?" Arwen said. "You would forget all your millennia of shared pain and sorrow and declare that, in a few months, Estel had overtaken my brother in your esteem? That is so strange, _gwador_, considering that Elrohir was ever at your side, bearing the brunt of your furies and griefs down through the years."

Legolas flushed. He suddenly recalled Elrohir's words to him.

_It feels as if in the months you spent together on the Quest, you forged a friendship with Estel that has replaced and even surpassed that which we have shared in over three thousand years_.

"I spoke rashly, forgive me," he murmured.

"But you believe it nonetheless," she said in a hushed voice. "My poor brother. He was right in his forebodings. In your need to regain your freedom you will strike even at his very honor."

Legolas looked up, startled, and saw there were unshed tears in her eyes. "You speak of strength but you do not understand it," she continued, her voice shaking slightly in her perturbation. "If his heart were weak think you he would still be here to endure your unyielding one? He has lived with this for uncounted years and remained whole and steadfast. He has not faded as others would. If that does not speak of strength and courage, I do not know what does."

Legolas was stricken. In his haste to justify his ambivalence, he had forgotten, nay, brushed aside Elrohir's virtues and strengths. He saw that Arwen trembled with anger at him and sadness for her brother. He clasped her hand in his beseechingly.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "Mayhap I should break with him rather than feed him false hopes," he added hesitantly.

Arwen stared at him, aghast that he was actually considering the option. "I do not know what is right for him or you," she finally said tightly. "But whatever you do, _ernil_, please be gentle. Elrohir deserves at least that much from you."

She abruptly disengaged her hand from his grip, rose and glided gracefully away. Legolas remained where he was, his heart heavy and his thoughts even more turbulent than ever. Small wonder that he did not sense the presence of another, hidden behind a nearby trellis of lush blossoms and thick foliage.

The intruder silently slipped away.

Glossary:  
Ivanneth - Sindarin for September  
gwanur nîn – 'my brother' but a more accurate translation would be 'my kinsman'  
tôr iuar – older brother  
Estel nîn - my Estel  
mellon nîn – my friend  
gwador – sworn brother  
meldisen – my friend (female)  
Edhel - Elf

_To be continued_…


	87. Calenlass 13 Confrontations

**AN:** Thank you all for the kind reviews. I truly enjoy hearing from readers and feedback is a good vehicle for expressing opinions. Well, except for one piece where the contents were pure gibberish rather than any form of comprehensible language. But I doubt that one exception was very complimentary so perhaps it's just as well that I cannot decipher it. Otherwise, I appreciate getting reviews so long as they're courteously worded and sufficiently legible, too.

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XII: Confrontations  
The great hall of the White Tower rang with serious talk and muted laughter. Originally intended as a banquet honoring the Harad delegation, this subdued dinner was now held in thanksgiving that Gondor had not fallen victim to the Southrons' machinations.

Legolas mingled quietly with the other guests, aware that the present warmth and kind demeanors of several were neither deep nor lasting. For now, they were grateful to him for his part in uncovering the Haradrim's dark scheme. But time would temper this and they would eventually remember their envy and wariness of the Elf-prince.

And there were still those who did not treat him with much friendliness but were even more fearful and suspicious of him. The men of Gondor could be as superstitious as the Swertings and Legolas' almost otherworldly means of interrogation with the Harad ambassador had served to confirm these long-standing beliefs about the Firstborn. Thus, there was quite a number who regarded him with caution and even veiled hostility.

But none openly showed disrespect or animosity. None dared while Elessar's Elf-brother remained at his side.

Legolas considered Elrohir's actions with equal parts gratitude and exasperation. He was all too aware that the younger twin stood between him and possible unpleasantness. Yet he also could not help feeling anxious that such obvious evidence of Elrohir's high regard for him would only deepen the prevailing belief that he was too much the warrior's confidante.

He was also discomfited by the Elf-knight's behavior. Elrohir was reticent with him almost to the point of silence. He saw to his needs with typical thoughtfulness, responded to his questions or comments and acted as his shield against any guest spoiling for a fight. And considering the amount of wine and ale being consumed, there were many rendered intemperate enough to dare start one.

But he was overly restrained this evening. It was unlike him to be so quiet and unforthcoming. Legolas wondered at the twin's strange mood. Eventually, however, he began to chafe at Elrohir's constant vigilance. It was not as if he was a helpless child unable to fend for himself in less than friendly territory. Therefore, it was with relief that he saw Aragorn beckon to his brother to join him and Arwen for a spell.

Elrohir glanced at him with concern before left. "I will be quick," he murmured.

"There is no need," Legolas assured him. "Go. Do not keep them waiting."

He waited for the twin to disappear into the throng before slipping out of the hall. Truth be told, the closeness and warmth within had been getting on his nerves and he felt a breath of fresh air would revive his rather tense spirits. And so he left the White Tower, slipped past the guards at the gate of the Citadel and walked down the dark, empty street beyond until he reached the sixth level of the city.

He walked aimlessly for a while until he came to a cul-de-sac surrounded by empty buildings. Though more than twenty years had passed since Aragorn's ascension to the throne of Gondor, there were still patches of deserted structures in Minas Tirith, evidence of the population's steep decline during the War. Many citizens had abandoned the Guarded City for the relative safety of lesser-known abodes and they were slow in returning to their former homes.

Misliking the melancholy of the place, he turned to retrace his steps. And came face to face with a group of men. Men who'd had more drink than was good for them but were not intoxicated enough to take for granted. Men who eyed him with active dislike.

With a twinge of apprehension he recognized Lord Gethron as well as the king's counsellor, Duindor. All the other faces were familiar, too. They belonged to a faction of vassals who sought greater power in court and incidentally envied and therefore hated Legolas for his intimacy with the royal family.

He swiftly surveyed their forms and frowned when he caught glimpses of battle-worn swords and knives concealed beneath their robes and mantles. Tradition and protocol demanded that only ceremonial weapons were worn at royal functions. Legolas himself bore only a simple jeweled dagger on his person. That these men had not only followed him out here but also risked flouting the rules meant they had come to the banquet with the intent of doing him harm. No doubt they would have devised some way to get him alone but he had made it even easier for them by leaving the great hall without telling anyone.

He did not visibly tense as they smilingly surrounded him. But within he was as wound up as a tightly coiled spring.

"Why, my lord prince, do you so disdain the company of men that you would leave the banquet so precipitately?" Gethron said with a smirk.

"'Twas not to avoid anyone's company that I left," Legolas replied calmly. "I only desired a breath of fresh air."

Duindor snorted disbelievingly. "Do not toy with us, Elf," he growled. "We have seen how you look down upon us mere humans."

"I do _not_ look down on your race," Legolas said pointedly. "If I did, I would not have troubled to befriend your king."

"But 'tis not our king with whom you spend your time, is it?" someone else said. "You are always in company with the Lord Elrohir."

Legolas stiffened at the dangerously suggestive comment. "He and I have been friends for many centuries," he retorted.

"Which makes it a simple matter to use him for your own purposes," Gethron sneered. "'Tis common knowledge that Elessar hearkens to his brother's counsel in all things. No doubt you have much say in what Lord Elrohir tells the king!"

"That is an absurd notion, my Lord Gethron," Legolas icily said. "If any desired to _guide_ the king in his rule I warrant it would be you and your ilk. A pity you have no well-placed lackey of your own to aid you in your ambitions!"

His lightning swift parry of a treacherous charge from behind was all that saved him from a mortal wound to his back. His would-be opponent was taken aback by such an unexpectedly fast reaction from the archer. But this did not prevent him or the others from converging on the Elf with murderous intent.

They obviously expected a quick finish to their fiendish scheme. They were grievously disappointed. Not only did their quarry fend off their attacks, he also dealt some of them serious enough injuries to take them out of the running. And he did so with naught but his one knife.

It occurred to Legolas that these men had imbibed copious amounts of alcohol to bolster their courage to carry out an ambush on him. Well, the alcohol had indeed given them the needed courage to attack him but it had also rendered them less effective as fighters. Thank Eru for that, Legolas decided as he managed to evade a wicked arcing slash to his belly.

Nevertheless, he was outnumbered and even elven reflexes and skill could not forever protect him from multiple, near simultaneous assaults. He hissed when one blade penetrated his defenses, leaving a long gash on his forearm. It was then, when he was beginning to worry that he might not survive the fight, that circumstances changed once more.

Forced against the wall of a house, he savagely kicked one man in the groin and sent another's dagger flying. Through the corner of his eye, he espied Gethron lunging at him, sword in upraised hand. A second later, the man screamed in agony, his weapon dropping to the ground as his hand was pinned to the wall of the house by a deftly flung long-bladed _sigil_.

Suddenly the small space was swarming with men in the black and _mithril_ of the Guards of the Citadel and the uniforms of the soldiers of the White Company of Ithilien. In minutes, Legolas' assailants were subdued.

The archer glanced up in time to see Elrohir striding towards the writhing Gethron whose hand remained impaled by the twin's embedded knife. Directly behind the Elf-lord was Beregond, Captain of the White Company and Faramir's most trusted officer.

Elrohir, with nary a word, yanked the knife out of wall and flesh. Gethron collapsed to his knees, clutching his bleeding hand, grimacing in pain. He was unceremoniously hauled to his feet by the Elf-warrior.

"You are grown overbold to dare so dastardly an act, Gethron," he snarled.

"Mercy, lord!" the man gasped. "'Tis not what you think—!"

"Save your explanations for the king!" Elrohir snapped. "I have no patience for cowardly dogs such as you."

"My lord!" Duindor hurriedly interrupted. "We meant no harm! It seems we had too much to drink and it clouded our judgment!"

Legolas laid a frigid glare on him. "No harm?" he repeated, barely stifling the impulse to throttle the advisor.

Elrohir placed a soothing hand on his shoulder though he all but skewered the archer's attackers with his stare.

"I find it hard to believe that you came after Prince Legolas because of mere intoxication," he acidly remarked.

"But 'tis the truth, my lord," one of the other men insisted. "We did not realize what we were doing!"

"Indeed? Then how do you explain these?"

He flicked a finger across the hilt of one their swords, which along with their other weapons were now in Beregond's custody. His sarcastic query left the prisoners quite mute. He shifted his gaze to settle solely on a cringing Gethron.

"You are careless with your correspondence, Gethron," Elrohir informed him. "I found your behavior suspect during the talks with the Swertings. It seemed to me that you were overly familiar with them. And so I set a watch on you and your household." He paused, letting the baron sweat a little more. "Your messenger was caught heading for the border carrying a letter to the Southrons. A letter of apology that also detailed our future plans pertaining to Harad. A letter bearing your signature and seal." He smiled grimly when the man's face whitened almost impossibly. "I wonder what the king will make of this treachery?" he remarked.

"Nay! 'Tis not treachery!" Gethron cried vehemently.

"Then what do you call it?"

"We only desired to repair the damage done to our potential alliance with Harad!"

Elrohir raised skeptical eyebrows at the man. "Potential alliance?" he repeated. "You would persist in treating with a treacherous people after having witnessed the unveiling of their deceit? You are not only traitors but also fools as well!"

"'Twas no unveiling, my lord!" Gethron objected. He looked at Legolas with mingled fear and loathing. "This Elf used enchantment on the Harad ambassador to get the result he wanted."

Elrohir snorted. "And why, pray tell, would Prince Legolas wish to thwart a treaty with Harad other than to prevent mischief?"

"'Twas at our behest that the Haradrim broached the treaty in the first place," Duindor interjected excitedly. "Had it been signed and ratified, it would have elevated us in the king's eyes being its chief instigators. Naturally, Prince Legolas would not desire such a thing for it would lessen his influence at court!"

Elrohir actually blinked at such convoluted reasoning. "Not just traitors and fools but hare-brained ones, too," he remarked with some disbelief. "If I did not abide by the laws of this land, I would run you through this instant and rid the kingdom of your perilous stupidity once and for all!" He signed to Beregond. "Take them to the king. He must be told of their foul deeds."

"Mercy!" howled Duindor. "My lord, Gethron spoke true. 'Tis not treachery. We only desired the good of Gondor!"

"Spare me your worthless declarations. You colluded with this kingdom's enemies then attacked a noble guest of the king. What is that if not treachery?"

"He bewitched the ambassador!" Gethron insisted, jabbing a finger at Legolas. "As he bewitches you!"

"Aye," Duindor eagerly agreed. "You are in his company day and night. He works his magic on you without your knowledge and uses you to induce the king to do his bidding."

"Prince Legolas is no warlock to engage in such dark practices," Elrohir dismissed. "I have known him far longer than all the generations of your fleeting lines and I vouch for his integrity."

"You trust him overmuch, my lord," Duindor blurted out. "You do not realize how deeply he has ensorcelled you."

Elrohir had to laugh at that. "'Tis a measure of your opinion of me that you should think me easily ensorcelled by another Elf! Hardly flattering I must say." Again, he signed to Beregond.

This time, the captain did not bother to wait out the prisoners' fevered protests but had the guards and his own men take them away. Yet the captured men continued to proclaim their good intentions even as they hurled invectives at the Elven prince they deemed an obstacle to their ambitions.

When the last of Legolas' assailants disappeared from sight, Elrohir turned to the prince. He frowned when he noticed the gash on Legolas' arm. He reached for the injured limb and examined the wound carefully.

"'Tis shallow and will heal swiftly," he said with relief. Without hesitation, he ripped a length of silken fabric from the hem of his own shirt and used it to bind the wound.

Deeply shaken by the miasmic accusations thrown at him, Legolas shuddered. "This would not have happened had you been more reserved in your manner with me," he said tersely, his voice unsteady.

Elrohir's head snapped up; the darkling Elf stared at the archer. "Is that all you have to say?" he gasped.

Legolas looked at him and replied: "What else can I say when the reason for this attack is that which I had been trying to avoid for so long?"

For a tense, silent moment, the Elf-knight gazed at him, his dusky eyes darkening further with every passing second.

"So, your thoughts are finally revealed to me, _ernil daur_"—forest prince—Elrohir suddenly snapped.

"I do not know what you mean."

"But it is clear, is it not? You call into question my actions, my words, my very being. Nothing I do pleases you now."

"You exaggerate. I only wished that this did not come to pass. And it would not if you had taken more thought to your demeanor with me."

"What would you have had me do then?"

"I cannot direct your actions, Elrohir, they are your own. But had Aragorn been in your place, he—"

"Has so strong a heart that it could endure its own breaking."

Legolas gasped in shock as his own words were hurled back caustically at him. For the first time, he saw the unveiled pain in Elrohir's eyes; realized the other had only been keeping a tight leash on his emotions.

The warrior continued with unrelenting harshness. "So strong while I am so weak that I hold you hostage to my needs," he said, voice dripping with bitterness. "You are racking up all my mistakes and waiting to use them as reason enough to break with me. But I suppose that is a kindness for then you would not be feeding me false hopes."

Legolas felt his heart sink like a stone. The younger twin had been there in the garden. Had heard every scornful, bludgeoning word he had uttered. Dismay and guilt rooted him to the ground.

"Elrohir," he murmured. "Forgive me. "

"For what?" Elrohir choked. "For breaking my heart? That was a possibility from the moment I loved you. A risk I took knowing you as I do. What I did not foresee was that you could be so ruthless. Be gentle, my sister asked of you. She did not know that I had already tasted your steel. And indeed I should salute you for it is obvious that you have bested me!"

He turned away and walked quickly into the shadows, refusing to heed the prince's pleas for him to turn back.

Legolas stared up at the stars unseeingly. His relationship with Elrohir was all but riven. All that was needed was the formality of words to make the break as clean as possible. He was on the verge of freedom. It was what he wanted; what he'd striven for.

Why then did it feel so bleak?

Glossary:  
sigil - knife or dagger

_To be continued_…


	88. Calenlass 14 Shattered

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIII: Shattered  
The prince's return to the great hall was greeted with much concern for him and anger at his attackers. Aragorn made short work of Gethron and his men, throwing them into confinement to await his judgment. But he and Arwen were puzzled by Elrohir's failure to return as well. If there was one who should have been more than eager to wreak vengeance on Legolas' assailants, it should have been the twin. Yet he was nowhere to be found.

Legolas declined to explain why the Elf-warrior had suddenly made himself scarce, his sense of guilt too great at the moment. He could not quite meet Arwen's incredulous stare.

Elsewhere, Elrohir was caught between fury and anguish. First Legolas had quarreled with him the other day. Then this morning Aragorn had had the temerity to lecture him. Hardly had he recovered his calm when he overheard his sister and the prince discussing him, the latter using terms that grated on his already frayed nerves, words that had cut to the quick despite Arwen's spirited defense. To top it all, he had come to Legolas' aid tonight and what had that garnered him? Another reminder of his failings.

He'd heard Legolas calling his name, imploring him to return. Knew that if he'd stopped, the archer would have come after him at once. But to what end? he thought dismally. So that he might soothe me with his body once more? Elrohir shuddered. It was no longer enough. The heat of their couplings, the ecstasy of release in the prince's arms could no longer make up for the deep-seated pain in his heart.

He walked on until he found himself nigh to Fen Hollen. He smiled grimly as he noted the slumbering porter and the telltale flask by his side. This was one human who would find himself under fire before long, he thought. He would have to report the man's egregious negligence himself.

But for now that negligence would serve his purpose. With will-o'-the-wisp lightness, he lifted the key to the Closed Door from the inebriated man's belt, took a lantern and slipped within in silence. He walked down the climbing path to the Silent Street and at last came to a stop amongst the tombs and houses of dead Kings and Stewards.

With a dolorous sigh, he sat down upon a stone bench close to the House of Stewards, rebuilt in the years after the last Ruling Steward's fiery demise. He looked at the building but did not really mark it. He mirthlessly considered the horror of his family were they to discover his whereabouts. But that was the point of coming here.

He was in no mood for company at the moment. No one would trouble him here.

"My lord?"

He almost groaned in frustration at the intrusion but something familiar about the sweet, clear voice stayed him. He looked behind him and espied a young woman in the semi-darkness. She had been staring at him all evening in the great hall. He'd thought he knew her but could not quite recall who she was. But now he suddenly recognized her.

"Gilwen?" he said.

She laughed with delight. "You still remember me, my lord!" she said.

Elrohir had to smile. "I confess I did not at first, _hiril nîn_"—my lady—he replied. "You have grown up since I last saw you."

She was a great-niece of Imrahil of Dol Amroth, granddaughter to the Prince's oldest sister Ivriniel. Her father had served at one point as a counsellor to King Elessar. In that time, she had tagged along behind him whenever her family came to Minas Tirith. He knew she had been infatuated with him but that had come to an end upon her father's return to Belfalas and the court of her great-uncle.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"I followed you." She looked at him curiously. "I saw how you helped Prince Legolas. But you seemed so upset afterwards I worried about you and thought I might be of comfort."

"My thanks for your concern. But 'twas only a small matter."

"Oh, I think not," she said, shaking her head. "I have never seen you so angry before. What did that arrogant Elf say to you to trouble you so deeply?"

"Do not speak of Legolas in that manner," he said sharply before he could catch himself.

"Forgive me. 'Tis just that I do not like to see you hurt," she said contritely.

Her words were a timely balm for his injured pride and troubled heart. He smiled at her suddenly, which had the effect of speeding up the rate of her heartbeat. "Nay, there is no need to apologize. I should not take my anger out on you." He looked at her wonderingly. "Did you not fear to come here?"

She looked about at the pale statues and tombs and mansions. A shiver ran through her slender frame.

"I did," she admitted. "But you entered and so I followed. 'Tis not so frightening with you here."

He smiled faintly then reached out an inviting hand to her. "Come, tell me about your life since you left Minas Tirith."

She came forward, her face flushed by the pleasure of his invitation, and sat by his side. "There is nothing to tell, my lord," she said. "I married and that is all."

"What?" he chuckled. "That is all? Surely there is more to tell. How is your husband? Is he kind to you?"

"He is kind enough," she replied. "But no amount of kindness can conceal the fact that we are ill-suited for each other."

Elrohir noticed the bitterness that had crept into her voice. Not willing to pry into her reasons, he chose another tack. "And children?" he asked. "Surely you have little ones?"

She shook her head. "I have taken pains to ensure I do not bear him children."

The twin was taken aback. A crease marred his brow. "The members of your family may carry elven blood in their veins," he commented, "but I did not think it potent enough to enable you to determine whether you conceive or not."

"'Tis not," she admitted. "I-I went to someone – an old hag in the hills. She gave me something to prevent me from breeding. A potion."

The crease evolved into a full-blown frown. Elrohir knew of what she spoke. Though Sauron was long defeated and his master, Morgoth, before him, the dark arts they had fostered in their baneful realms still existed in Middle-earth, their practitioners now mostly coming from the ranks of Men. Most of the ancient spells and charms were lost, thank the Powers, for only those with the gift of enchantment could wield them with consistent results. But chemical concoctions enhanced by incantations were not beyond the skills of mortals with limited abilities.

Various poisons were by far the most common of these potions. The Orcs had made good use of them since time immemorial and still did so today but Men had also since learned how to make these toxic brews. But there were other mixtures of foul intent that could be had for a price. Most, if properly made, were effective for after all they had been devised by the two foremost proponents of evil in all of Arda. There were elixirs that could bend the minds of men to the will of whoever administered them, remedies that could increase fertility or destroy budding life, aphrodisiacs and love potions that forced the body or heart from its appointed path.

The practitioners, self-proclaimed witches and warlocks, fed on the need of men to twist or thwart fate. Though mercifully few and scattered, they nevertheless thrived, each generation passing on to another their black lore. Enough of their brews worked to convince men of their efficacy. Elrohir did not care to think of the horrifying ends of those who had been unfortunate enough to imbibe the potions that did not. For few if any of these so-called sorcerers actually understood the scant knowledge they possessed. Partaking of the results of their dubious talents entailed great risk.

"You should not indulge in such practices, _hiril_," he cautioned. "They are sprung from the evil of Thangorodrim and Mordor. 'Tis perilous to dabble in them."

"But I cannot bear the thought of having children with him!" she softly cried out.

Curiosity finally won out. "What sets you against your lord?" Elrohir asked.

"He is barely past his majority, a clumsy oaf of a boy who lacks the lore and refinement of my family. Are those not reason enough?"

Elrohir stared at her in sudden compassion. "Gilwen, I am sorry. I did not know you had been wed to one so distasteful to you."

"Even had you known what could you do?" She choked, "You are an Elvenlord of Rivendell and kinsman to our King and much too high for the likes of me!" She suddenly swayed.

Shocked, Elrohir caught her. For the first time, he noted that she was not completely sober. The smell of wine was on her breath. Too much wine, he thought.

"Lady, I think you have imbibed more than is good for you," he murmured.

"Nay, I know what I am doing though I daresay the wine has loosened my tongue a bit." She looked at him with teary eyes. "I needed to take a little more to get up my courage."

He stared at her. "Courage for what?"

"Courage to tell you that I have loved you all these years." She laughed ay his stunned expression. "Oh, do not look so shocked. Surely you know that fully half the female population of Gondor is in love with you!"

Elrohir let his breath out. He knew that, of course. He was well acquainted with the adulation as well as the ambitions and scheming that accompanied it.

"What is it you want of me?" he quietly asked. When she stared at him in return, he said, "You did not tell me you love me just to unburden your heart, I think."

She burst into tears. "Nay, I did not. I am so weary, my lord. So tired of pretending and waiting for a boorish child to come home to me when my desires lie elsewhere!" She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

Reflexively, Elrohir felt himself respond. Part of him was surprised that he could still feel desire outside of love. But he also knew that he was badly in need of release. His talk with Aragorn came back to him as well as the discussion he had overheard between his sister and Legolas. Anger grew within him once more. But instead of lashing out at the young woman, he allowed it to be diverted in another direction.

Yes, why not take this willing body? At least, she loved him. It would be pleasant to be the object of affection or desire for a change. And he had not had a woman in so many years.

He pulled away from her and looked at her flushed face. He ensnared her with the smile that never failed to set hearts aflutter. She drew in her breath deeply as she read the message in his grey eyes. She did not resist when he stood up and guided her down Rath Dinen to the Closed Door nor did she protest when he led her back to the Citadel, the royal pavilion and his bedchamber.

oOoOoOo

The following morning found the prince of the woodland realm of Eryn Lasgalen on his own. He had risen early and had his morning meal in the dining hall. There were very few folk around for most were still recovering from the previous night's events. Even Aragorn and Arwen seemed to have stayed abed a little later than usual.

After his meal, he hied off to the stables. He had not had the opportunity to see to his steed since arriving in Minas Tirith.

Legolas curried his horse absently. He was deeply worried about Elrohir and how the twin had dealt with last night's confrontation. _I hurt him with my ill-spoken words; drove him away with my cruelty_. He had considered going to Elrohir's room to apologize but feared his friend would still be in too black a mood to even tolerate his presence.

He looked up from what he was doing and saw the object of his thoughts watching from the stable door. Elrohir looked neither happy nor displeased to see him. Sighing, he stopped what he was doing and passed the task to the stable boy. He walked to the Elf-lord.

"You did not return to the hall," he said as he neared the twin.

Elrohir shrugged. "I had no desire for company."

Legolas looked at his friend anxiously. He seemed so spent in spirit, so listless. "I am to blame for that," he said ruefully. "I am sorry about last night, Elrohir. I had no right to speak to you in that manner. I – I did not even thank you for what you did for me. Please forgive me."

The Elf-warrior took no notice of the apology. He lowered his eyes and asked quietly, "Legolas, when was the last time you had a woman?"

The prince stared in surprise at such a drastic change in topic. "I beg your pardon?" he said slowly.

"Your hearing is as sharp as mine. You heard what I asked."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the rather caustic tone the other had used. His mouth tightened but he refrained from voicing his displeasure. "I think we'd best go somewhere else if we are going to discuss this," he said pointedly.

Elrohir responded by leading the way down the street toward an empty stretch of road near the bordering wall. He stared down at the winding pathways below while Legolas stood silently at his side. He glanced at the prince and raised an eyebrow to indicate he was waiting for an answer.

Legolas did not know whether to be offended or not by so impertinent a query. But deciding he did not want another quarrel with Elrohir he replied with as much good grace as possible. He managed a wry smile. "Let us just say it was before the Haradrim incursion. Since then you have kept me too busy to seek female companionship."

Elrohir only frowned more deeply. "I went to the Hallows last night," he said quietly, unmindful of Legolas' surprise. "An old acquaintance joined me there. Do you remember Lady Gilwen?"

Legolas searched his memory. "She is a great-niece of Imrahil, is she not? She used to follow you everywhere."

"She followed me last night. She is all grown up and married, did you know?" Legolas shook his head. "To a husband she despises."

The prince made a sound of disgust. "I will never understand why Men persist on arranging such unions," he commented.

"She needed comfort last night," Elrohir went on. "She offered me something else in return. I accepted."

Legolas went very still. After a while, he smiled without humor. "So much for professions of love and fidelity," he said dryly. His eyes glinted ominously.

Elrohir laughed bitterly. "You are angry. That is good to know. At least, you still care enough to be jealous of my attentions." He looked at Legolas and his eyes were suddenly somber. "It had been more than twenty years since I had last lain with anyone. " He paused a moment at the archer's unbelieving stare. "She told me she loved me. I thought it would be pleasing to be the one pursued for a change."

The archer visibly flinched at the reason for his yielding but Elrohir took no notice.

"It should not have troubled me in the least," he continued. "I have bedded more women than I care to recall and taken _ellyn_ for the pleasure they could give me. Though I confess I never touched another after I had you in Mirkwood." He smiled mirthlessly at the archer's startled reaction. "Last night should not have mattered in the least for what was one more tryst to me? But after we were – done, I remembered why I had not taken other lovers in all these years. Elbereth forgive me but I broke—" He suddenly shuddered.

Legolas looked at him bewilderedly. "Broke what?"

The Elf-knight laid eyes so shadowed with self-castigation upon him that it made him shiver.

"'Tis hard enough to love someone who loves you not," Elrohir said softly. "But 'tis an even greater burden to yield to someone whose love you do _not_ return especially when yours is already bestowed elsewhere. It leaves a stain on your soul that will not wash away so easily."

His words made Legolas cringe inwardly pertaining as they did as much to their relationship as to Elrohir's tryst with Gilwen. Yet there was also a feeling that that was not all that the warrior was referring to. But before he could question him, Elrohir surprised him anew.

"I was wrong to try and make you care for me beyond what might be expected of a friend," the twin said in a low voice. "It was not right to burden you with my need. I can only imagine how frightened you have been since I told you how I felt and with no one to turn to with your fears. Not even me."

Legolas drew a sharp breath. It was uncanny how well Elrohir knew him. "I missed my best friend," he admitted.

Elrohir nodded. "I know. I am sorry," he murmured. He swallowed hard then said: "I will not hold you to something you did not seek. I release you from any obligation you feel you have toward me."

Legolas was taken aback. He had not thought Elrohir would broach the subject so soon. "I have not asked this of you," he said.

Sorrow flickered in Elrohir's eyes. "You do not have to," he said. "You claim you did not yield your heart to Estel in full and mayhap that is true. Yet you find the memory sweet and incomparable. For restrained as your feelings may have been, you felt three words for him; short and simple words but more precious than all the treasures of Middle-earth. Since then you have closed your heart once more. Until you let the memory go, unless you reopen your heart, you will never say those words to me."

"Elrohir—"

"I had thought my hopes were possible but now..." Elrohir turned bright eyes on his friend. Legolas winced silently at the pain so clearly mirrored in them. "I have never run away from the truth. I will not start now. Forget I ever asked anything of you, _ernilen_. Forget I ever touched you and tainted you and the memories of us that you held dear." He had never spoken in such a toneless voice, bereft of all feeling, of all life.

Legolas gasped. "That is not so! How can you think that?"

"Because I am only Elrohir and against me your heart stays shielded. Be at ease, Legolas, I swear I will trouble you no more." He turned away even as he spoke to stare unseeingly at the vastness of the Pelennor.

Legolas stared at him in shock and remorse. "Forgive me for hurting you, Elrohir," he whispered. "If I could give you what you desire, I—"

"You would. Aye, as you did in the past." Elrohir sighed. "I understand why you behaved as you did. I do not hold any of it against you. You have always been a true friend and 'twas I who overstepped my bounds. Please, do not trouble yourself any longer over this."

"But I do not wish to end it this way!"

"There is no other way."

The archer reached desperately for him, clasped his hand between his suddenly clammy palms. "Can we not – can we not be as friends again?" he implored.

The saddest eyes he'd ever beheld met his for an instant before they reverted to their aimless stare. "I wish we could," Elrohir softly said. "But you know 'tis not possible, Calenlass. That ended when I declared myself to you. You know of my regard for you and that would only discomfort you. You will always hold my attentions suspect and shy even from the slightest touch of my hand, fear my gaze upon you should it be warmer than wonted."

"Nay, I would not!" the prince protested vehemently.

"Deceive me if you wish, if only out of your kindness, but do not deceive yourself."

Legolas thought his heart would give out, so pained was it at this imminent severance of their friendship. "Elrohir, I beg of you, do not let this sunder us," he almost sobbed.

"Forgive me, _ernilen_, but this once I cannot grant your desire. There is no going back." He gently pulled his hand out of the archer's grasp. Again the twilight eyes alighted on him for the briefest of moments, tenderness and affection in their depths. "I will always love you, Legolas, even should the world change once more." And then their light was vanquished and the warrior turned from him. "Please go. I need to be alone."

His voice brooked no protest or resistance. Legolas, though fiercely unwilling to go, could do nothing more than obey.

As he slowly walked away, his eyes stinging furiously, he glanced back at the Elf-warrior. Elrohir stood straight and tall and proud. Any who passed him by would never have guessed at the grief that ravaged him from within.

Glossary:  
ellyn – male Elves  
ernilen – my prince

_To be continued_…

**Author Unknown:** Thanks so much. And that was a beautiful quote. Would that more people kept that bit of wisdom in mind. Yes, Legolas' timing is terrible and, as you mentioned in an earlier review, it's going to get a lot worse before it finally gets better.  
**Nina:** They're approaching the crossroads of this stage in their relationship and it's going to be rough on both of them. I think there are certain lessons that can only be learned the hardest way possible.


	89. Calenlass 15 Love's Price

**AN:** I explained my reasons for the cause of Elrohir's state of being in this chapter earlier in the series but in case any readers missed it, I'm reposting it here.

I am well aware that 'fading' as Tolkien intended the term to mean has nothing to do with dying from grief or a terrible ordeal but is simply a way of describing the slow change that will eventually render an Elf invisible and intangible to the world at large. My use of the word as well as others of similar meaning - waning, failing, languishing - has more to do with the deleterious effects of pining away for a lost or unrequited love or being overwhelmed by extreme sorrow or torment. For the purposes of this series - call it creative license, AU, whatever - my version of the Elves can and do experience such a debilitating condition. Surely even as near perfect a race as the Firstborn must have chinks in their figurative armor and the ability of an immortal passionate being to feel deeply and suffer excessively for it does not seem all that far-fetched in my humble opinion.

**_Calenlass: Heart of a Prince_**  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIV: Love's Price  
Legolas scarcely saw Elrohir in the days that followed. The darkling Elf held true to his word and avoided him. Only at meals did they see each other and even then the twin maintained his distance, sitting by Eldarion or the Queen, never letting their eyes meet if possible. The prince felt an overwhelming sense of loss at the Elf-knight's avoidance though he concealed it well.

He saw the shadow grow beneath the warrior's eyes, felt the dimming of his flame, witnessed the slow weakening of his body manifested in a mounting weariness and listlessness. Every once in a while, when the twin did not mark his presence, so diminished were his senses, he would catch a glimpse of the anguish in the grey eyes, the raw, unhealing hurt.

He knew it was not only his rejection that wounded Elrohir so profoundly but also the knowledge that he had been compared and found wanting. That his feelings, his thoughts, his love had been accounted of no significance when held up to the prince's deliberately jaundiced eye. Legolas had not only refused his love but betrayed his trust as well.

The archer desperately wished to ask for forgiveness, to make amends, to do something, anything to wipe away the terrible pain he would espy in the Elf-knight's eyes. A pain that alternated with a frightening emptiness that stripped him of everything that had made him a figure to reckon with in all of Gondor. Noble Elvenlord, fierce warrior and sage counsellor.

But Elrohir held him at bay, would not give him any opportunity to offer comfort or caring. He knew why. Unless it was love that he would speak of he was worse than useless to the Elf-lord's needs. Yet the twin remained steadfast in his resolve though the grief ate away at him. His family could only helplessly watch the silent unraveling of his very being but the one person who could help he held at arm's length.

It was heartrending to see him retreat at times to a place within himself where no one could follow, not even his foster brother, sister or nephew. Unseeing, unknowing, thoughts and feelings turned inward as he lost all interest, all hope in the world without. Only at his family's desperate entreaties would he force himself out of the darkness, his love for them sparking his guttering flame anew into a steady blaze for a while. For a while.

Legolas wondered if Elladan in far-off Rivendell could feel his twin's flickering spirit. If only Elladan were here, he thought in his misery. He would know how to reach his brother. He would heal his grief. But the prince knew the thought to be a lie even as it passed through his mind. Not even Elladan had the ability to heal this malady. Only Legolas held the cure but he hesitated to wield it and he knew all too well that Elrohir would refuse it if he gave it unwillingly. And so the decline continued.

The diminishment became all too apparent the last afternoon of the archer's stay. Hidden in the shadow of the White Tower, he watched Elrohir as he helped Eldarion hone his skills in hand-to-hand combat in the archery yard behind. Legolas held his breath as the warrior actually finished a bout winded. Elrohir panted and swayed a little when he should not have been affected in the least.

The woodland prince anxiously noted the increased leanness of his limbs, the markedly drawn features of his countenance. For the first time, he realized the Elf-knight was beginning to look delicate, almost fragile. _Ethereal_. It was not a word anyone would have previously used to describe the fearsome warrior whose Edain blood lent him a brawn not of Elvenkind.

"He is dying," a hushed voice startled him.

He glanced to his side as Arwen came up beside him. The Queen was stony-faced but her eyes flashed with emotion. "I see him failing before my very eyes."

Legolas did not know what to say except, "I am sorry."

"Of what use is an apology if my brother wanes?" Arwen demanded quietly. "But then mayhap 'tis in your interest that it should come to pass for then you would be freed of the fetters of his love."

Legolas stared at her in hurt shock. "That is uncalled for, _rîs_ Gondor" —queen of Gondor—he hissed. "How could you think me capable of such a thing?"

The Queen turned cold eyes on him. "Because you are," she softly seethed. "You deny him though you know 'twill be the end of him!"

"You would have me _force_ what is _not_ there!" he snapped.

"Nay, I would have you _admit_ what _is_ there!" she countered. "But you would rather see him die than unshield your stony heart." Her words rendered the prince speechless. "You are not the tender comrade I knew who loved him enough to submit rather than end your cherished friendship. You hearken to your misgivings over the one who loves you more than life itself. I pity you. You are doomed to a lonely eternity without ever knowing the full bliss of true love."

Before Legolas could respond, they heard a shout and turned their attention back to the sparring match. Eldarion was anxiously fussing over his uncle for Elrohir looked alarmingly pale and unsteady. The Elf managed to pacify his nephew before commanding him to begin archery practice. His strained smile was all too obvious to the watching Queen and Elf-prince.

He happened to glance in their direction. Becoming aware of their presence, his smile vanished completely and he flushed painfully. Then he caught hold of himself and turned his attention back to Eldarion. Legolas heard Arwen's sharp intake of breath. Without a word, she withdrew from his side, her silence a damning accusation for which he could find no rebuttal.

oOoOoOo

Valiant heart, tender soul, Legolas thought helplessly as he regarded Elrohir that night as they gathered in Aragorn's study after the evening meal. The sable-haired warrior tried to allay his sister's anxieties, jested for her fearful son and put up a smiling face for her worried husband. He refused to let them fret over him, gently brushed aside their inquiries about his state of being. Only once did he look at Legolas and that was inadvertent.

The twilight eyes dimmed in that moment, the sinuous lips tightened involuntarily, and then he recollected himself and a mask slid into place over his expressive features. He averted his gaze and resolutely kept it elsewhere. Legolas felt something shrivel within when the grey pools turned from him. It was as if a candle had been snuffed out, leaving him in the cold and lonely darkness.

Arwen, however, would pin him here and then with a pointed glare. Yet the Queen concealed her ire from the others, said nothing of the truth to her family, and thus spared him their certain enmity. Why, he did not know. Until the following day.

The next morning, the royal couple and their son came to bid him farewell. Elrohir did not.

King and heir were greatly troubled by the warrior's non-appearance. They were grieved by his waning, understood what had befallen him but were not aware of what exactly had passed between the two Elves.

After waving away the guards that they should hear nothing of a sensitive nature, Aragorn looked at Legolas entreatingly. "We cannot force you to return something you do not feel, _mellon nîn_"—my friend —he said. "But can you not stay and be of comfort to him? It would surely lift his spirits to have you nigh at hand."

Remembering his last conversation with Elrohir, the prince softly declined. His response earned the Queen's anger. She skewered him with a black glare, torn between the urge to lash out at him and the desire to aid her brother.

"You cannot leave him like this," she insisted. "Let me fetch him. He would come if I summoned him."

Legolas sighed. "If he wanted to see me off, you would not need to send for him. Let him be, Arwen."

She stiffened, her lovely face turning stormy. "But of course. He has freed you," she nearly spat. "You are no longer beholden to him, no longer held hostage to his needs. You and your misbegotten fears! "

At her husband and son's bewildered stares, she strove to rein in her temper.

"_Melethril_, why do you speak so harshly?" Aragorn asked frowningly. "What has Legolas done to merit such treatment?"

"'Tis not for me to tell you," she said tightly. She locked eyes with the Elven prince, her stare openly goading him.

Legolas rallied, stared back at her, blue eyes flashing angrily as well. "You have already begun your charge, why halt it now?" he snapped. "What use for discretion when you have already most likely vented your spleen upon me to any who would listen?"

Arwen's simmering rage erupted. "I have shared this with no one, not even my own lord and son, for _he_ bade me to speak no ill of you before them," she informed him icily. The information took him aback and she smiled scornfully. "Even to the end, he protects you from the ire of others. But I will not countenance it any longer. I will not shield one so unworthy of his tender heart!" she ground out corrosively. "Fool that I am, I had dared to hope that you would yield at this last for I trusted his judgment of you. But why should you yield when 'twas for this parting that you broke his very spirit!"

Aragorn and Eldarion looked at her in utter shock before turning to stare at Legolas. Her wrath knowing no bounds in her anguish for her brother, Arwen released a final volley.

She hissed contemptuously: "Guarded heart? 'Tis a myth! You have _no_ heart, Thranduilion!"

Ignoring Legolas' blanched countenance at her scathing pronouncement she swept away with nary a backward glance. For a stunned moment, king, heir and Elven prince were struck mute. And then Eldarion looked at Legolas incredulously.

"Is what she said true?" he questioned anxiously. Legolas could not meet his searching gaze. The youth backed away, disbelief in his comely countenance. "What does she mean?" Eldarion asked almost pleadingly. "What did you do to - to break—? Legolas—?"

When the archer could do naught but shake his head, the young prince caught back a shuddering breath. "What Mother said - about your fears— What are you afraid of?" he demanded, near tears despite his manful efforts to stay them.

Still Legolas did not speak. Eldarion bit his lip then spun on his heel and hurried after his mother. The archer glanced warily at the King. Aragorn was ashen-faced.

"You willfully denied him knowing what would become of him," he half whispered, eyes wide with consternation and as much disbelief as his son's.

"Nay, I never intended that it would come to this," Legolas protested.

"Yet it has." The king's regard turned stern. "It seems none of us truly knew you," he remarked coldly. "Not even my brothers whose friendship you claim to treasure so dearly."

His face grim, he, too, turned away and followed his wife and son.

Stricken with guilt and misery, the archer mounted his steed and led the contingent away. At the last moment, before he made the first turn down the street, he looked back. He espied a slender figure just by the Citadel gate. Argent eyes bade him goodbye; no trace of recrimination or anger marred their limpid depths.

The prince almost turned his mount around to go back but Elrohir lowered his head and disappeared into the High City. With a heavy heart, Legolas continued on his way, his people following him in silence.

oOoOoOo

They had crossed Anduin into Ithilien and still the heaviness in Legolas' heart did not lighten. If anything it grew ever heavier as they drew farther away from Minas Tirith. And when they came within sight of Emyn Arnen and still the burden did not lift, Legolas knew there was something terribly wrong.

He had always felt a sense of belonging when he saw those hills. Known a feeling of homecoming that made his heart glad and soul rejoice. But now he felt empty. He could feel no comfort, no welcome relief. And an ache gnawed at him from within. His eyes fell upon the exquisite gold band on his right index finger.

It had never left his finger since Elrohir had gifted him with it. Not even when he slept or bathed did he remove it. He had thought to return it before he left Minas Tirith but he'd realized how much more pain that would inflict on the Elf-knight. As if I have not already hurt him enough, Legolas thought remorsefully. He gazed wistfully at the ring. It seemed to him that it challenged and beckoned and reproached all at once.

He suddenly brought his horse to a halt. Around him the other Elves also stopped, looking at him in puzzlement. He ignored them and turned his steed around, staring at the City of the Kings in the distance. He stayed that way for the longest time, seeking something he knew not what. And the ache refused to cease. Indeed, it had waxed steadily since his last glimpse of Elrohir.

He turned inwards, strove to understand his feelings. Turmoil and confusion abounded within. He grappled with his emotions, forced himself to sort them out and see them as they truly were.

Since the Elder days, the Elves of Greenwood had suppressed the innate duality of their nature. In the need to perpetuate their race amidst the uncertainties of Middle-earth, the binding of _Edhil_ of the same kind came to be viewed as extraneous and, eventually, by the time of his obstreperous grandsire, Oropher, even aberrant. The inclination, of course, could not be banished; it was as native to the Elves as their immortality. But it had been forced into the shadows of Greenwood's Silvan culture; something known to be done but not encouraged or flaunted.

Scion of Oropher's house, Legolas had been raised in this atmosphere, ignorant of that part of him that lay dormant for lack of enlightenment or opportunity for expression. He had indulged his passions solely in Elf-maids, never dreaming that he was capable of so much more.

Any attraction to fellow males was explained away as the natural elvish appreciation of physical beauty or the admiration or hero worship of those with qualities worth emulating. The prince had accepted these reasonings without question; no male Elf had yet evoked in him anything to make him believe otherwise.

The alliance with Rivendell had forced a wedge into the closed society of Eryn Galen and served as the first incursion of the ancient ways into the Woodland Realm. But even then, Thranduil's people had been slow to accept such profound changes in their traditions.

Legolas, despite his ample exposure to these differences in the company of Elrond's sons, had not embraced them with any marked swiftness or enthusiasm either. Not even the surprising revelation that others coveted him in that manner had changed his views of such passions and the Elves who felt them. They were to be pitied, tolerated, even assisted if need be; he had come to accept that it was normal for their race. But it was not for him. He believed it never would be.

Until Elrohir had awakened in him that which he had long denied existed in his very blood. What he could ignore with other _ellyn_ he could not with the younger twin. Elrohir had kindled something in him, educing not just passive acceptance of his touch but an enthusiastic response to and eventually an active, undeniable craving for it. He'd discovered that he wanted the Elf-warrior as much as he had any Elf-maid. But his fear of emotional intimacy had not vanished and even deepened his determination to avoid engaging in affairs of the heart.

Elrohir had confessed to understanding this and had left him in ignorant peace, opting to keep his feelings from his friend. But his devotion had never waned, his tender regard never abated. If anything, he had been ever more patient and caring since... since the night he made his choice.

Emotional pain lanced through Legolas as he comprehended the truth at last.

When the twins had chosen to be of Elvenkind, the grace for them to remain in Middle-earth past the time of their father's departure had been contingent on each pledging to bind himself to an Elf who would then stand in Elrond's stead. Whilst Legolas had known 'twas his sister, Nimeithel, who owned Elladan's heart, he had wondered at the time as to who would hold Elrohir's immortality in his or her hands.

_'Twas I_.

Legolas drew in a ragged breath. He bound his heart and spirit to me though I did not know it, he thought in shock.

He closed his eyes, his heart beating wildly. I am every kind of fool, he berated himself. And a blind and deaf one as well.

All the signs had been there from the moment Elrohir pledged himself to be of the Elves. It had been more glaringly apparent when he revealed his love to Legolas on Mindolluin.

Legolas almost groaned out loud as he realized yet another truth. Until Gilwen, Elrohir had not bedded another in the two decades since the declaration of his choice. How could he when he had promised himself heart and soul to the archer? It was no wonder that he felt so tainted by his encounter with the mortal woman. In his eyes, he had betrayed his oath of fidelity.

But I did not see or hear, Legolas thought painfully. I was so caught up in my own feelings I failed to comprehend what he had done in the name of his. How is it that he still loves me when I have proved myself so unworthy of his devotion?

His mind raced through all the repercussions of Elrohir's sacrifice.

A true binding occurred not only when an Elf gave his heart but also when his spirit sought to belong to the one to whom he had given it. Once this came to pass, it triggered a desire for intimacy with that sole beloved; an intimacy of an intensity and relentlessness unknown to any other race in all of Arda. Such was the passion of the Firstborn for how else could love and lust for a single mate outlast eternity itself? Few could endure and not surrender to despair should love not be accepted, requited or expressed.

For so long as Elrohir had still held hope that Legolas might yet love him in turn, he'd remained steadfast; had been so strong of heart and spirit as to be numbered amongst those few who could withstand the ravages of love unreturned. But when Legolas had stripped him of all hope, he'd finally succumbed to the one thing that could be accounted an illness among the Elves. Grief. And with it came the degrading slide into darkness for fading thusly deprived an Elf of all grace and dignity. It showed its merciless hand in Elrohir's swift waning. Now Legolas, too, could feel the beginnings of that insidious pain and finally recognized the cause of it.

It came to him, with blinding clarity, why he felt so lost, so pained, so... incomplete.

_He stirs me in a way no other being ever has. He always has. And there is no other reason for it but I would not admit it. Ai, stubborn, ignorant fool that I am! Elbereth forgive me, I have wronged him beyond bearing_.

A new fear coursed through his whole being. A new, far more daunting fear than any he had ever felt in all his years. It thundered in his head, froze his very blood. The reason for its existence cudgeled him with brutal force.

If he did not unshield his heart, if he did not turn back now... he would never see Elrohir again.

He visibly trembled; his hands shook violently as he gripped his mount's mane. Forcing himself to calm down, he glanced at his companions, noticed their alarmed expressions.

"I am returning to Minas Tirith," he suddenly announced.

The other Elves stared at him in surprise. "Highness, we are already more than a day's journey away," said his captain. "Even should we ride without stopping, we shall not reach the Guarded City until late this night."

"I know," Legolas said. "I do not ask you to accompany me. I will go alone."

"Nay, my prince, we would never let you go alone. We will go back with you."

Legolas only nodded. "I expect you will be damnably housed," he told the others. "I will not rouse the King's household at an unholy hour just to accommodate this mad whim of mine."

He urged his steed into a wild gallop, unmindful if the others followed or not.

Glossary:  
melethril - female lover  
Thranduilion - son of Thranduil  
Edhil - Elves  
ellyn - male Elves

_To be continued_…


	90. Calenlass 16 Morning's Embrace

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XV: Morning's Embrace  
The Citadel was dark for it was way past the midnight hour. The guards stared into the darkness, their ears and eyes alert for anything beyond the usual, ready to challenge any presence that did not belong there. But none of them heard the feet that swiftly traversed the stone pavement or saw the slight figure that passed through the gate under their very noses and melded with the shadows in the Court of the Fountain. With an ease that spoke of great familiarity with his surroundings, the intruder made its way into the royal pavilion and hurried down a dim corridor with nary a sound. It stopped at one particular door.

Legolas stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He silently passed through the sitting room and entered the bedchamber. Only the moonlight from the balcony and windows illuminated the chamber. He walked to the bedside table and set alight the single taper upon it. As the wick burst into flame, he looked down at Elrohir.

The Elf-knight lay on his side, his obsidian mane spilling about his shoulders and upon the pillow like a mantle of darkest silk. In the flickering light, Legolas could see the disquiet in the perfect even if drawn features of the twin. Though asleep, he was not at peace. A slight frown marred his fine brow and the sable lashes were still damp from recently shed tears. The archer realized he must have just fallen into this troubled repose.

He looked utterly alone and painfully vulnerable. And to the prince's newly enlightened eyes he was achingly, bewitchingly, incomparably beautiful.

He swallowed hard then stifled a groan when he felt the heat pool in his groin at the very thought of claiming the Elf-knight for his own. He fought to still the tremors that threatened to weaken his limbs. By Elbereth, he was no chaste maiden on her wedding night! He was a warrior, learned in all the ways of loving save one. And this last one he intended to master before the night was done.

Legolas sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the other's cheek with the back of his hand. He knew Elrohir's war-honed senses, not yet completely lulled by deep slumber, would alert him to the presence of an intruder. He did not wait long. One moment, Elrohir was fast asleep, oblivious of his surroundings. The next moment he had jerked awake, grabbing at the wrist of the hand that touched him. He stared up at the face he beheld.

"'Tis only I."

Elrohir blinked in disbelief, his mind still dulled by sleep. "Legolas?" He struggled to sit up but Legolas placed a hand on his chest and kept him from rising any further.

"What are you doing here?" Elrohir asked thickly. "You should have been in Ithilien by now."

"I turned back."

"Turned back? Why did you do that?"

In answer, the prince bent over him and kissed him on the mouth. Elrohir was rendered motionless by surprise. Then he felt the hand on his chest firmly pushing him down onto his pillows. Any residual grogginess promptly vanished as his lips were forced apart and his mouth invaded and tasted with a voraciousness that left him bereft of breath and sense. To his shock, slender fingers set to nimbly unlacing the ties on the loose shirt and trousers he had taken to wearing as his waning rendered him susceptible even to the pleasant coolness of early autumn.

Bewildered, he attempted to stop the other Elf. But his hands were caught in a strong grip and pushed down at either side of his shoulders. Weakened as he was by his grief, his strength was no longer equal to the archer's. Legolas continued to undress him, silencing him with his lips whenever he tried to protest.

"What are you doing?" he finally managed to get a few words in.

"Hush," the prince whispered. "Just let me."

"Let you—?" Another kiss effectively cut him off.

Elrohir's head spun in confusion. He wanted to know why Legolas had returned, why he was doing this, why he would even want to in the first place. But he could not pull his thoughts into any coherent pattern for long. Not when Legolas' lips and tongue explored his flesh as it was bared. Or when shining hair brushed seductively against his skin while a beguiling woodsy scent filled his nostrils. And when the prince quickly stripped then molded his slender form against his, all was lost and he finally gave up trying to forge anything in his mind, lucid or not. He surrendered and let Legolas do with him as he wished.

With new but well-learned skill, audacious Greenwood subdued, ravished, took possession of the hallowed center of noble Imladris.

Elrohir moaned as the prince trailed hungry kisses over his body, groaned as the finely boned hands roamed all too knowingly and intimately. For the first time in a long lifetime of carnal exploration, he lay helpless, submitting to another's demands. It was partly his physical decline, partly the peremptory manner in which Legolas had taken control.

He shivered as the archer moved steadily down, tasting, it seemed, every inch of skin along the way. Elrohir was thoroughly befuddled. _What has come over him? Why this hunger?_ He was abruptly shaken out of his cerebral meanderings when he felt himself enclosed in the moist warmth of the prince's mouth.

"Legolas!" Shocked, unbelieving, he reached down to the golden head to grasp the other's shoulders.

The prince gripped his wrists and pinned them down. He looked up at the dazed twin, his sapphire eyes meeting the Elf-knight's grey gaze.

Elrohir stared at the archer. He did not recall ever seeing Legolas' eyes so lust-darkened. And then the prince bent once more to his sensual task and he fell back against his pillow shuddering with the sensation.

Legolas proved an excellent student. Everything Elrohir had ever done to him he now employed more than ably on his erstwhile teacher. And found he enjoyed it immensely. The very taste and feel of Elrohir maddened him. Now that he had unshackled his heart and given it free rein, it opened his eyes and the full measure of Elrohir's radiance was thus revealed to him. Overcome, he found the darkling Elf utterly irresistible.

Everything about Elrohir pleased his senses, heated his blood, roused his predatory instincts. And it was intoxicating to see the Elf-rider lose command of himself; gratifying for he knew just how rarely the twin relinquished dominance in any matter.

Under such edacious handling, Elrohir soon found himself perilously close to exploding. He did not know how Legolas would deal with his release. He hoped it would not prove unpleasant for the prince this first time. Not that he could hold back any longer. His usual control deserted him and he finally gave in, spending himself in the archer's warm mouth.

He lay with his eyes closed, panting, striving to regain some semblance of order in his being. He felt Legolas move to straddle him and he opened his eyes to stare at the golden-maned Elf. He colored slightly when he saw the other's lips glisten tellingly. The archer's mouth curled into a smile in response to the rosiness that stained the warrior's cheeks.

"Had I known how delightful this could be I would have tried it centuries ago," he teased huskily.

Elrohir's bafflement deepened. "I do not understand," he murmured unsteadily. "Why are you doing this?"

Crystalline eyes raked his tall frame with a curious mix of salaciousness and reverence then returned to regard his endearingly bemused countenance. "I want you, Aduial. I would take you if you will let me," Legolas whispered.

Elrohir's eyes widened. He'd never yielded to Legolas for the prince had not shown a proclivity to take that position with him. Admittedly, that had relieved him. It was something he'd never allowed with anyone for to submit to another was alien to his nature. But now Legolas did want it and he knew it was not in him to deny the one Elf who owned his heart. He swallowed hard and tried to calm himself. Wordlessly, he nodded.

Legolas noted his unease and wondered at it. "Have you never let anyone take you before?" he queried in some disbelief.

"Nay," Elrohir admitted whisperingly.

Legolas gazed at him with fast burgeoning elation. "I suppose this should not surprise me," he said. "Your pride would never let you submit to anyone."

With a wicked smile, he slipped a pillow beneath Elrohir's hips then parted the Elf-knight's legs further and moved down purposely between them. Elrohir grasped convulsively at the sheets then uttered a guttural groan when he felt Legolas' tongue pierce him. It had been ages since he'd last allowed any to caress him thusly and those had been his first bed-teachers. But none had been as aggressive as Legolas or as possessive. Pleasure snaked its way through his nerves and his quiescent shaft came to life anew.

He could not help flinching when a seed-slickened finger replaced the prince's tongue. There was no hint of hesitation as Legolas deftly accustomed him to the sensation of penetration just as he had done for the archer his first time of submission. He hissed as the intrusion became more pronounced and his vulnerability more apparent. And then rapture crept through his limbs once more as Legolas stroked him where he was most sensitive. He bit back a moan, could not stifle another as the prince continued his peerless ministrations.

All the while, Legolas peppered his lower body with lusty kisses and playful bites. The miniscule part of Elrohir's mind that was still sentient pondered the prince's ability to recall in detail virtually everything he had done to him in the past. Not to mention his unexpected creativity in an act he'd had the opportunity to experience with Elrohir alone.

He had to close his eyes when Legolas shifted him into position. He involuntarily held his breath when he felt the archer press against him only to release it in a startled gasp when Legolas took him with one sure thrust. His eyes flew open to stare at the archer.

Legolas was gazing at him with something akin to exultation. The sapphire pools were nearly black with passion. "You do not know how much this pleases me, Elf-knight," he growled. "To claim the one part of you still untouched by any other... your pride has served me well!" he almost crowed.

Elrohir barely had time to register the unexpected words before the archer began to move. He drew his breath in sharply as Legolas sought and found the exact spot that caused lightning streaks of pleasure to course through his body. He felt the prince's hand stroking him confidently, rhythmically. Elrohir pressed back against the pillows, shaking as exquisite sensation rushed through his very veins. It was useless trying to hold on to any control at all.

"Legolas, this-this is too m-much!" he rasped as his forbearance neared the end of its tether.

"Then let go, Aduial!"

The archer's words were like a trigger and, panting raggedly, Elrohir surrendered to his body's need. Stars exploded behind his closed eyes as he shuddered uncontrollably, his body surging with indescribable rapture. And the throes of his completion flowed from him to sweep over his lover.

Legolas' breath caught as he felt the Elf-knight's powerful muscles clench around him. He had not known, never imagined that could happen. The sensation was astounding. It was almost excruciating in its intensity. It was absolute bliss. And coupled with that now familiar echo of pleasure that resonated through him, it was exquisite beyond description.

After several heartbeats, the archer withdrew from his lover, reluctantly it seemed for he certainly took his time doing so. As his senses sought their peripatetic way back to normalcy, Elrohir finally opened his eyes and saw that Legolas was bent over him, bracing himself with his arms on either side of the twin's shoulders. He, too, was breathing heavily but there was no doubting that he'd relished the reason for it.

The archer's eyes bore into him with – what? Satisfaction? Triumph? Elrohir could not make heads or tails of what had just happened. "Why?" he whispered.

His answer was a deep kiss that only confounded him further. Legolas drew away with a gratified sigh, then shifted off him. Elrohir stared at the enigmatic prince as the latter pulled him into a tender embrace so that they faced each other.

Though he was already struggling against his exhausted body's demand for sleep, he tried once more. "Legolas, please, what is it you—?"

A finger on his lips silenced him. "You need to rest," the prince crooned softly. "We can speak of this tomorrow."

Elrohir gave up. He was in no condition to insist. He was just too drained at the moment. His eyelids fluttered then closed. The last thing he remembered was a gentle kiss upon his forehead and a whispered, "Sleep well, my brave one."

When Elrohir awoke at dawn the following day, his first drowsy thought was that he'd had the most improbable dream. But he started when he felt the bite of the chilly morning air upon his skin and came awake with a snap. He was naked and his clothing was on the floor beside the bed. He sat up quickly; the sudden movement caused an unaccustomed ache to course through his lower body and he winced. But he felt strangely invigorated, as if he had passed through the depths of a shadow into the golden light of a new day. How...?

His heart pounding, Elrohir let memory wash over him like a wave. _Elbereth, 'twas no dream!_ Still in shock, he noticed a small piece of parchment upon the pillow at his side. He took it up. There was just one word on it written in flowing elvish script.

Elrohir rose from his bed and swiftly dressed. Within minutes he was hurrying out of his chamber, pulling his cloak about his shoulders. He was still affected by his recent grief and was, for now, vulnerable to the elements. Mindful of the prince's apparent desire to keep his presence unmarked by the denizens of the Citadel, he took care to slip past all the sentries unseen.

He left the City and climbed up the steep path to the high field on Mindolluin where he had declared his feelings to Legolas more than a year ago. All the while, his thoughts swirled around in his head and questions abounded. He reached the field and saw Legolas standing near its edge, gazing out at the Pelennor. The Elf's eyes were unfocused, as if he were in deep thought or lost in a dream. Elrohir slowly approached him.

"Legolas?" he hesitantly said. The blue eyes lost their vacant stare. Legolas turned his gaze upon the twin. Elrohir was startled by the look in them. "Are you all right?" he asked, now hurrying forward.

Legolas smiled tremulously then caught his hand in his. "I hope you did not mind my leaving you before you woke," he murmured. "But I needed the time to prepare this."

Elrohir stared at the large basket the archer indicated where it rested under the shade of a slender tree. A basket filled with crusty bread, sharp cheese, fresh fruit and sweet mead.

"I thought you might enjoy breaking your fast here... with me."

Elrohir felt his bewilderment increase. Why this attention to his needs? What was going on? He peered wonderingly at the archer and thereby caught the merest flicker of uncertainty in the depths of his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he repeated.

The prince went still. And then he half laughed, half sighed. "All right? I do not know. I..." The Elf-knight grew worried. He rarely saw Legolas so unsure. "Elrohir, I am afraid," the archer suddenly whispered.

Elrohir was astonished. "Afraid of what?" he said.

"Of what I feel." Legolas drew in a deep breath. "You asked last night why I returned."

Elrohir nodded. "It seemed strange that you turned back when you were already so near home."

"Nay, it did not feel like home. Something was missing." Legolas struggled with what he would say. It was more difficult than he had expected and he found he could not come to the point as quickly as he would have liked or should have. "I left Minas Tirith with a heavy heart and it refused to lighten even when we came to Ithilien. I realized then that this was because what I wanted was not there but here. I could not stay away." He let out a regretful breath. "I should have listened to Aragorn and not left in the first place."

An awful suspicion formed in Elrohir's mind. "Aragorn?" he managed to repeat. He stared at the prince with bated breath.

"Aye, when he saw me off yesterday, he urged me to stay and mend things with you," Legolas said ruefully. "His love for you is such that he scored me quite severely for abandoning you."

Incredible pain surged through his very being as Elrohir considered Legolas' words. He hardly paid attention to the rest of the archer's account.

"And Arwen was even worse. She—"

"Sweet Eru, is that why you came to me?" Elrohir cut in tightly. "And I thought..." He could not finish his sentence.

Legolas looked at him, startled by the raw agony in the warrior's eyes. "Elrohir—?"

Elrohir suddenly made a sound that was a cross between a harsh sob and a bitter laugh. "I should have known," he said, his voice shaking. "You esteem him so highly you could not endure the loss of his regard even if it meant playing whore to my needs!" His eyes suddenly gleamed with anguish and betrayal. Oblivious of the archer's shocked reaction, he snapped: "You should not have come back, Legolas. I have no need for false comfort!"

In a flash, Legolas realized what his careless words had wrought. Horrified, he grasped Elrohir's wrist when the other turned to leave.

"Nay, Elrohir, 'tis not what you think!" he exclaimed. "I returned because I missed you!" The Elvenlord stopped but did not turn around. "Aduial, please look at me."

The twin did as he was bid but the eyes he cast upon the prince were wounded and wary. Legolas felt his heart ache for the other's grief. Elrohir was so near breaking he could not summon even the faintest hope despite what Legolas had just revealed.

"I wanted _you_, Elrohir _nîn_"—my Elf-knight—Legolas said earnestly, tugging firmly at the twin's hand.

Elrohir blinked at the possessive utterance of his name. Slowly, he allowed Legolas to pull him back. He was still cautious for he had suffered too many blows to let his guard down now. "I do not understand," he said. "You said you came back because Estel—"

"I only meant that had I listened to him I would not have wasted so much time," Legolas urgently explained. "Had I stayed I could have been with you that much sooner. But I did not do this for him. I care not if his esteem for me is gone. 'Tis you I desire, Elrohir, you and your love."

His words pierced Elrohir's caution. For the first time the twin's eyes reflected just the tiniest spark of hope. It was enough for Legolas. He clasped the warrior's hands in his and lifted them to his lips.

Elrohir felt a tremor course through his arms as Legolas almost reverently kissed the fine knuckles of his hands. The prince lifted his eyes and gazed at the Elf-knight.

"My heart is yours, Elrohir," he softly declared.

The twin's eyes widened incredulously.

"If you – if you... Do you still... want it?"

Elrohir let out his breath at the apprehensive, almost timorous query. The archer was virtually quaking in his boots, dreading that his long-held fear would still come to pass. That in finally giving his love, it would now be crushed and cast away.

Elrohir had always understood his lover's fear. Legolas had long protected himself from being crushed by love's vagaries by withholding himself from love. For him to deliver into anyone's hands the power to hurt him was indeed a frightening experience. But to the Elf-knight, it was a most precious gift.

A gentle smile lit up Elrohir's countenance. "Legolas, you _are_ my heart," he said quietly. At the archer's quick intake of breath, he added softly, "Do you realize what day this is?"

Legolas looked at him wonderingly for a moment then started. His eyes lighted up in comprehension. "'Tis your begetting day," he said.

"Aye, and I had thought it would be the darkest day yet in all my life," Elrohir said in a hushed voice. "But, the Valar be praised, 'tis now one of the brightest for you have given me the only gift I ever desired."

Legolas caught him to himself and held him tightly, burying his face in the Elf-knight's sleek neck. His heart swelled and his spirit soared when the twin enfolded him in a snug embrace. Peace and contentment enveloped him like a warm mantle. It felt as if he had finally come home.

He was keenly aware of this almost undeserved blessing. Elrohir could have very well turned him away and no one would have blamed him, least of all Legolas himself. Indeed, it had gnawed at him as he awaited the twin's arrival, torn as he'd been between hope and apprehension. For Elrohir's acquiescence the night before, however glorious, had been no surety that he would accept Legolas after all that had passed between them.

He'd been weakened by his waning, taken unawares by the prince's seduction. In the rousing brightness of day, his mind returned to full lucidity, there had been every chance of the Elf-knight deciding he wanted no more to do with so willful and difficult a lover. He could very well have spurned Legolas' belated overtures.

It had terrified the woodland prince to the very foundations of his soul. For one thing he knew with certainty. He did not have Elrohir's strength of heart. Not in this first and only venture into love's reaches. Had his Twilight turned from him, he would have been lost.

He shivered as tender lips pressed against the side of his neck. A compelling need to confirm his acceptance, to prove that he did belong to Elrohir seared him. Turning his face, he looked into the warrior's _mithril_-hued eyes.

"Love me," he implored.

"Forever, Calenlassen," came the sweet reply.

"Now, Aduial, love me now," Legolas begged. "I would know that I am yours."

Elrohir's breath caught at the passionate plea. " As you wish," he whispered.

Legolas undid Elrohir's cloak and, upon drawing it from his shoulders, threw it down on the grass. In mutual desire, they joined in a kiss. Tender at first, the tentative beginning of a new phase in their relationship. But it could not remain so gentle. Before long, they were sealed in a burning caress that left them both shuddering. They sank down upon the mantle, their mouths still clinging.

It was nearly an hour later when they became aware once more of the world beyond. Legolas lifted his head from Elrohir's shoulder to gaze at his lover. When Elrohir sensed his regard and returned the gaze, he brushed soft lips against the twin's mouth.

"Thank you," Elrohir whispered.

Legolas peered at him wonderingly. "For what?"

"For giving me your heart."

The archer stared at him then shook his head. "'Tis I who should be grateful," he murmured. "Others would have given up on me long ago but you..." He pressed another kiss to his Elf-knight's lips.

Elrohir was looking at him raptly when he drew back. "What gained your trust? What stayed your fear?" the twin softly asked. "I had thought you forever guarded."

Legolas lowered his eyes, somewhat abashed by the question. "I have listened to my mind all these long years," he murmured. "And always it counseled me to beware. To trust no one with my love. But on the way to Ithilien, I could not still my heart's plea to be heard. And so I finally hearkened to it."

"And?"

"It wanted you." He lifted his eyes to meet Elrohir's gaze. "It knew it would be safe with you. I realized then what a fool I'd been to fear your loving. I realized that if I lost you I would regret it forevermore." The archer sighed. "Would that I had listened to my heart long ago," he murmured repentantly.

Elrohir could not speak at first. But he looked at his beloved prince with such radiant affection as to rival the heat of Anór itself.

"The way you look at me..." Legolas whispered. "I pray it will always be thusly."

Elrohir smiled. "Always, _melethron_."

Undone, the archer eagerly sought anew his Elf-knight's potent kisses. His sweet embrace. His incomparable loving.

Glossary:  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
Calenlassen - my Greenleaf  
Anór - the sun  
melethron – male lover

_To be continued_…


	91. Calenlass 17 Transition

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVI: Transition  
_Ivanneth_ F.A. 21 – _Gwirith_ F.A. 22  
They endured their inevitable separation reluctantly. Legolas was thankful he'd thought to prepare the picnic breakfast for it enabled them to celebrate Elrohir's begetting day in an intimate and affectionate fashion. After they shared the bountiful repast, the prince drew the warrior into further love-play, receiving him with all the eagerness of a wanton much to Elrohir's delight. It was nearly midday when they parted their bodies for the last time and dressed. Legolas left to rejoin his people and ride back to Ithilien while Elrohir slipped back into the Citadel with none the wiser as to his activities that morning.

In these initial fragile weeks of their renewed liaison, they did not speak of the deeper stirrings of their hearts. They chose to take it slowly, to accord themselves the benefits of courtship, which admittedly had not been part of their love's progression. In particular and for their respective reasons, neither brought up the matter of the one-sided binding that held the Imladrin lord to the Greenwood prince. For now, they were content to simply love each other.

For the rest of the month and the first half of October, they met as often as they could without arousing the suspicions of others. For in one thing Legolas had been right. Discretion was still a must in this land of Men where the customs of Elvenkind were not always understood and even sometimes condemned. And so they trysted with utmost caution, sometimes in the small inns along the road from Ithilien to Minas Tirith, at other times in sparsely populated Osgiliath.

Not once did Elrohir visit Legolas in Ithilien. It was not yet the right time for that.

He did not tell Arwen or Aragorn or even Eldarion of the sweet culmination of all his waiting, the end to his hopelessness and sorrow. Their shock and anger with Legolas was still too recent, too raw, for them to condone his acceptance of the archer's avowal of love.

He knew Aragorn would caution him against opening himself to the possibility of renewed pain and he could just imagine his sister's reaction. Arwen had been most vehement in her castigation of the woodland prince. Only Eldarion had inhibited himself from actively disliking Legolas though he had been deeply disappointed with the archer's actions and no longer spoke of him with admiration as had been his wont. They would not understand his immediate capitulation and would only urge him to beware of one who might toy with his devotion anon.

Unfortunately, Elrohir's state of health was still such that his sister and foster brother might not believe the archer's loving true. While the waning from grief was swift and brutal, the recovery, if there was one, was slow and gentle. What had taken mere weeks to strip from the younger twin would now entail months of healing to restore.

Elrohir thought it prudent to let their understandable feelings of rancor diminish with time. They loved him. They feared to lose him. They had vented their fear and anger upon the one they perceived to be the reason for their imminent loss. That made for strained relations with Eryn Gael's lord.

Legolas wholeheartedly agreed with him. He was in no haste to endure Arwen's caustic tongue so soon or Aragorn's cold glare or Eldarion's lowered opinion of him. By all means, let the passing days temper the edge of their ire, he told Elrohir. He did not mind at all so long as his Elf-rider loved him. And so Legolas kept his communications with the king on a formal and official level while his relations with the king's brother became progressively more personal and intimate.

Only once did he reappear in Minas Tirith and that was for the judgment of Gethron and his cohorts. The royal family was civil but cool with him. It actually worked to his advantage during the proceedings.

With Elessar's distant demeanor with the Elf-prince suggesting some recent disagreement between the two of them, the traitors' insinuations about undue influence and unholy practices suddenly rang hollow. Mayhap the prince's friendship with the king's foster brother was closer than most men were used to but it was evident neither the Lord Elrohir nor Elessar himself were inclined to let the matter guide their decisions in matters of government. How else to explain the king's less than warm behavior with the Elven prince?

And what unholy practices? None had seen evidence of anything unnatural between the woodland prince and Elessar's Elf-brother. Indeed, if anything it seemed they were not as close as previously supposed. Why, look at the Lord Elrohir! He had obviously been ill as his almost delicate appearance evinced so glaringly. Yet had that stopped the Elf-prince from leaving the Guarded City? Nay! Was that the natural comportment of someone whose interest in another was more than platonic? Of course not! And so the discussions went and eventually wound down to die a natural death.

The upshot of all these events was Elessar's startling decision regarding the fate of Gethron and company.

"Since you esteem the Haradrim even above the citizens of the land of your birth, you are most welcome to make your abode amongst them," he stated, eliciting gasps of shock from all and sundry and cries of dismay from the accused. "You have until daybreak tomorrow to put your affairs in order and depart from this realm. May you have good fortune in your bids to start anew in Harad. Believe me, gentlemen, you will need it!"

The judgment was more than enough to dampen any further notions of trickery or treachery. In Gondor, the soon-to-be exiles had had some influence and that had made them of some worth to the Southrons. But in Harad, they were as nothing and, with no connections left to the Reunited Kingdom, they would be less than useless to the Haradrim. Elessar's sentence was little more than a death sentence if these former lords failed to eke out an existence in the Swertings' realm.

All throughout, Elrohir and Legolas maintained their professional miens, neither betraying by look nor word nor touch how much they longed to be alone that they might share more than a look or word or touch. Afterwards, Legolas returned to Ithilien and Elrohir prepared for his departure for Rivendell.

For in the latter part of October, they were perforce compelled to part when Elrohir made his once yearly sojourn to his home. Legolas did not protest or Elrohir refuse this duty. They were both princes born and reared and accepted the responsibilities their positions entailed to the people they ruled and protected. But so anxious was Legolas to store up as much of his Elf-knight's loving as possible that, on the eve of the warrior's departure, he recklessly took the risk of being seen by the wrong people at the wrong time and in the wrong place and spent the entire night with his lover in one of the inns of Minas Tirith itself.

Elrohir's journey to Imladris proved a most poignant one. Just weeks earlier he had planned the trip with the intent of spending his last days on Arda in the valley of his birth. Instead, he arrived so incandescent with life and loving that his brother and law-sister were quite overwhelmed by his very presence.

To Elladan and Nimeithel alone did he reveal the reason for his joy and the compelling luminosity in his eyes. Nor did he hide the painful events that had preceded this reconciliation with his long-time love.

While Nimeithel smugly announced that she had known it would come to that, Elladan could not help proclaiming it was about time and he would tell Legolas so when they met again! But as that pronouncement was followed by a most tender embrace for his twin and a knowing grin, Elrohir's worries that his brother might yet do Legolas bodily harm were largely allayed. Of course, as to whether Elladan would give him a piece of his mind was entirely the older twin's prerogative and Elrohir would simply have to stay by Legolas' side if his brother should push through with his threat.

During the months that followed, he assuaged his acute yearning for his prince by indulging in the task of altering his bedchamber from a bachelor's sanctuary to a haven for two. In this he had Elladan's questionable assistance and Nimeithel's more substantial aid. He had no doubt that his lover was doing much the same with his quarters in Eryn Gael and the thought of the mercurial Wood-elf embroiled in such domestic activities oft brought an amused smile to his lips.

But his stay in Rivendell was suddenly abbreviated when word came from Gondor that war loomed once more. Unlike in years past, the Haradrim had not awaited the onset of spring before harassing Gondor's borders again. In January they had engaged the Men of the West in an escalating series of skirmishes. And now a great battle was expected to take place before very long. Ithilien was in worst straits. As early as December, Orcs had taken to making raids on the province. And so Gondor's forces were split with King Éomer and the Rohirrim riding to Elessar's aid while Faramir and Legolas contended with the incursions into their territory. Alarmed by the tidings, Elrohir headed back south, Elladan at his side.

His return was greeted with much astonishment and disbelief. King and Queen had been expecting the worse all through winter; had virtually awaited a letter from Elladan announcing his passing. When he arrived with his twin at the gate of the Citadel, looking as glorious as the day he'd first set foot in Gondor during the War, they were practically struck dumb. Relief and delight soon followed and with that their previous anger with Legolas slowly began to dissipate. That their gradual turnaround had to do with their belief that Elrohir had gotten over his passion for the prince was of no matter to the younger twin. Biding his time, he patiently awaited the proper moment when they would be most accepting of the truth.

In the meantime, the reason for his precipitate return to Gondor came to pass. The brethren rode to war with their king-brother. Formidable captains both, they helped Elessar lead and rally Gondor's forces as the last great battle in the south was fought. When it was over, the Haradrim threat was ended once and for all. Flushed with the sweet rush of their victory, Aragorn and his son and Elf-brothers returned to a jubilant Minas Tirith. Mayhap peace would come to the kingdom in this lifetime after all.

If anything marred the triumphant mood, it was the reports of continued strife in Ithilien. If Faramir and Legolas were unable to contain the situation soon, Aragorn would be compelled to send his war-weary forces to their aid and that was something he did not relish. Yet it was not his forces the king wound up sending but two most dear to his family's collective heart.

oOoOoOo

The royal family sat together in the small dining alcove for their evening meal. It was but two days since the men's return from the decisive battle against the Haradrim. Arwen was now very great with child and her husband and son solicitously saw to her comfort before settling themselves. Their conversation was as usual. The worrying Ithilien problem. Eldarion's training as prince and warrior. The impending arrival of Elladan's wife, Nimeithel, to join him in Gondor for a spell. Aragorn's indecision as to whether his daughters were old enough to take part in their oft-mature discussions.

They were midway through the meal when Elrohir suddenly gasped and an odd expression appeared on his face. Arwen noticed the change at once.

"Elrohir, are you all right?" she asked.

The twin lifted his eyes to hers then turned to the King. "Estel, I must go to Ithilien at once," he said. "I am needed there."

Aragorn was surprised. Arwen protested at once. Too often had Elrohir returned from the campaigns in the south accompanied by harrowing tales of his courage and near brushes with death. In Ithilien, battle was more often than not engaged after ambush if any survived the ambush in the first place. It was far more perilous than the open fighting on the plains of Rohan or Harondor.

"Can you not wait until they have cleansed the region?" she pleaded.

"Nay, I must go now. Legolas needs me."

King, Queen and Prince stared at him. "Faramir reports that great numbers of Orcs still ravage the countryside," Aragorn pointed out. "Legolas will likely be far from his halls. There is still much fighting to be done."

"And I shall fight at his side."

"Elrohir—"

"I will go, Estel, whether you will it or not." It was said calmly but firmly. The grey eyes did not waver.

Elladan studied him. "You sense him from afar," he said. His brother glanced at him and nodded. The older twin turned to his law-brother. "Do not stop him, Estel."

Aragorn looked from one twin to the other. He glanced at his worried wife then sighed. "Very well," he said. "But bring a full company of soldiers with you. You will most likely need help."

"I will go with you, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—Elladan said.

"My thanks."

Elrohir left to prepare for the journey. Eldarion glanced at Elladan questioningly. "How could he possibly sense Legolas all the way in Ithilien, Uncle?" he asked.

Elladan shook his head. "There are some matters you know nothing about but I am not at liberty to reveal them."

Arwen regarded her older brother thoughtfully then looked ruefully at her husband. "It seems we have been kept in the dark about more than a few things," she remarked. "Not that we can blame Elrohir for that. We were rather hard on Legolas, I confess."

Eldarion gasped. "Hard, _Nana_?"—Mama?—he sputtered. "You were quite ready to flay him alive!"

Aragorn shook his head, a small smile gracing his mouth. Patting his suddenly flustered wife's hand soothingly, he said: "We were only fearful for Elrohir's life, _meleth_. Legolas will not take that against us."

A spark of indignation flickered in Arwen's eyes. "And he should not considering how he treated Elrohir!" she retorted.

"Ai, _thel neth_, why did we bother to send our forces against Harad?" Elladan laughed. "We should have just dropped you in their midst and ended the battle soonest!"

oOoOoOo

Elrohir did not speak of what drove him to make the journey to Ithilien with all haste. He only broached the need to reach the province within the shortest time possible. And so he urged his men to move quickly, taking only the briefest of rests along the way. Only his brother understood his anxiety.

They came within sight of Emyn Arnen and turned south heading for Eryn Gael. Elrohir became more wary. The dryadic beauty of Ithilien was deceptive; Orcs still made frequent incursions into the province. Only the valor of the Elves and the vigilance of Faramir's warriors kept them at bay.

They were still many hours away from the colony when he suddenly brought his horse to a halt. He looked to the east as if waiting for something. His men watched him uneasily. But his brother trusted his senses and if he sensed that something was wrong then Elladan accepted that it was so. His conviction communicated itself to the others and none voiced their doubts about the Elvenlord's actions.

Elrohir drew his breath in sharply. There it was again It was just a whisper in his mind but it was enough. Without a word, he spurred his horse in the direction he sensed the thought had come from. The company followed him unquestioningly.

They passed through a wooded area. Elrohir continued onward, drawn by some secret call. They did not get far before they saw signs of an ongoing battle. They saw the still warm bodies of Elves and Orcs, fallen weapons and fresh blood staining the grass. And soon they heard the sounds of the fighting itself. They emanated from a great clearing towards the edge of the woods.

Fear clutched at Elrohir's heart. What if he was too late? With an angry cry he drew his sword and dug his heels into his mount. The great warhorse plunged forward. The rest followed swiftly as the Elf-warrior led the way.

The Men of Gondor burst into the clearing and onto a scene of carnage. They fell upon the enemy with fury.

Quickly assessing the situation, Elrohir realized that the Elves were outnumbered by their foes. Yet they fought on valiantly, bringing down many Orcs even as they themselves were slain. The men's arrival was more than timely.

Elrohir cut down Orcs with feral efficiency. A cold rage shook him as he became aware of just how many _Edhil_ had perished in the battle and only his deeply ingrained sense of discipline prevented him from blindly lashing out without thought to safety or strategy. He loved the Elves of Ithilien as much as he did his own people of Rivendell and it filled him with fury that so foul an enemy should dare to lessen their already diminished numbers. Yet despite the confusion and violence about him, he still searched desperately, looking for one face, one figure amongst all the chaos.

A flash of gold caught his eye. He saw the Elf-prince a fair distance away. Legolas stood alone, sword flashing lethally as he fought off his foes. He was surrounded by fallen Elves. And he was wounded. Elrohir saw the shaft of a black arrow protruding from his right shoulder and the way he faltered when he moved his arm. Alarmed, he urged his steed toward the archer as fast as the animal could go.

Legolas knew he was in great peril. He was surrounded, cut off from his people. And his injury hindered his movements. Each time he raised his right arm, the strain pulled at the wound and caused great pain to course through his body. He did not know how much longer he could hold out before an Orc breached his defenses and dealt him a fatal blow.

He was more than relieved when two Orcs behind him suddenly shrieked in pain and fell backwards in quick succession, arrows skewering their throats. He looked up and saw the great warhorse nearing him, its rider hacking away at the remaining Orcs that sought to slay him.

"Legolas, behind you!"

His mount at full gallop, Elrohir bent down and reached out his hand to the prince. Legolas grasped it and, using it as leverage, vaulted onto the warhorse behind Elrohir just as more Goblins converged on his position. One attempted to slay the horse but Legolas lashed out with his foot and caught the creature full in the face, sending it flying backwards onto some of its comrades. Elrohir rode the rest down, letting his steed trample them into the bloodstained ground.

The twin moved away from the thick of the fighting, his precious cargo now slumping against him. Once away from the brunt of battle, he scanned the clearing to see how the fighting had gone.

The tide had turned with the coming of the Men of Gondor. Already the fighting had begun to wind down. Before long, the sounds of strife faded away as the last of the Orcs were hunted down as they fled, and slain.

After ascertaining that the danger was over, Elrohir helped Legolas dismount. The fair-haired Elf allowed himself to be half-carried to a tree against which he could lean. Elrohir wasted no time in greetings but swiftly cut open his lover's tunic and shirt to bare the wound. The arrow was deeply imbedded but there was not too much bleeding. At least, the archer would not suffer from blood loss. He inspected the arrow's position in the wound.

"It will have to go through, Legolas," he tersely said.

"Do it then," Legolas replied.

Elrohir blanched. He had frequently done this procedure on the battlefield for others. But to do it for his beloved was something else. He knew he did not have it in him to cause Legolas even more pain. He called to his brother for assistance. Elladan came swiftly to the fallen Elf, bearing bandages and healing herbs.

The twins had a hurried consultation. Elladan's mouth tightened as he made his own examination. "There is poison, I think. You will have to draw it out after I extract the arrow." He glanced anxiously at Legolas. The prince was paler than usual, pain etched into his features. Yet he made no sound beyond an occasional labored release of breath

"_Muindor_, hold him," Elladan ordered. The younger twin obeyed and cradled the prince against his shoulder.

Elladan took hold of the shaft. With a quick bend, he broke off the fletched end. Even the slight movement jarred Legolas' already agonized shoulder. A hiss escaped his lips and his free hand clutched convulsively at Elrohir's arm. The twin bit his lip knowing worse was to come.

Elladan manipulated the arrow, angling the head away from bone or cartilage. With each movement Legolas' hold grew tighter until Elrohir thought his arm would break. Yet the prince refused to make a sound.

Elladan took a firm hold on the broken shaft. He glanced at Legolas. The archer simply nodded and braced himself. Elladan drove the arrowhead all the way through. This time Legolas could not stifle a gasping groan. Shuddering, he buried his face in Elrohir's chest. The raven-haired Elf wrapped his arms around him and held him closer, trying to impart whatever comfort he could give, dropping kisses on the golden hair.

Elladan gingerly extracted the bloodied shaft from behind the prince's shoulder. After examining the wound, he was satisfied that there were no splinters left within. He nodded to Elrohir. "You may let him go," he softly said.

Slowly, as gently as he could manage, Elrohir laid Legolas back against the tree. "I will leave you to draw out the poison," his brother said. "I must help with the other wounded." He hurried off.

Elrohir set to work, his nimble fingers and healer's skills manipulating the wounded flesh, coaxing most of the toxin out of the prince's veins. There would be some poison left but, with time and enough rest, Legolas' body would neutralize it on its own.

Legolas winced as the wounds burned under Elrohir's ministrations. After a while, he gazed at the other Elf with some wonder. "How did you know where to find us?" he asked.

Elrohir glanced up at him. "I heard you in my thoughts back in Minas Tirith," he said. "I knew you needed my help. And then I sensed you again when we arrived in Ithilien."

Legolas nodded. "Aye, I did need your help. I was wishing you could come." He looked questioningly at his lover. "You heard me in your thoughts? Was that how you knew that I was under attack from Gethron's men?"

Elrohir only nodded. Legolas longed to ask more but he was distracted just then. A hiss escaped him as Elrohir began to clean the wounds using water from his flask. He heaved a sigh of relief when the other finally finished. The warrior began to apply the healing herbs, careful not to cause more pain.

"I cannot believe these Goblins nearly defeated you," Elrohir frowned. "I have never seen you or your people so weary."

Legolas sighed. "It has been four months since I have spent any length of time in my home, Elrohir. We have been fighting almost every other day. My people are exhausted."

Elrohir looked shocked. "Why did you not send for help from Gondor?" he asked as he now wound bandages around the injuries.

"We cannot always ask aid of Gondor."

"Yet Gondor always asks it of you!" Elrohir retorted indignantly. He finished binding the prince's wounds.

Legolas cocked an eye at the other Elf and said dryly: "I know very well that Aragorn has been busy."

Elrohir snorted but did not deny the archer's point. "I am glad I came in time," he said instead. "I feared for you."

Legolas shook his head. "We have seen more battles than either of us can count, Aduial. You should not worry about me overmuch."

"You cannot ask me not to worry, _ind nîn_."—my heart.

Legolas smiled slightly. He conceded the point with a nod and relaxed against the tree.

Elrohir looked the other Elf over, seeking for other injuries. He was relieved to find none. But he did note the other's appearance. Legolas' pallor was far from normal and there were shadows under his eyes. The tiny braids that held back his fair hair had come undone. Smudges of blood marred his ivory skin. His tunic and shirt were ripped and his breeches and boots were smeared with mud and gore.

"You look a mess," the Elvenlord remarked. A golden eyebrow rose caustically. Elrohir met the other's gaze, his grey eyes glittering darkly. "Yet you are still the closest thing to perfection that I have ever known," he said in a low voice.

The blue eyes warmed, a slow smile creased the well-shaped lips. Of their own accord, Elrohir's eyes dropped to the prince's mouth.

_Later, melethron._

Elrohir blushed faintly as the thought brushed his mind. Legolas laughed softly. The sound cheered the weary Elves and filled the men with unexpected delight. Not a few of them looked at the Elven prince with awe, wondering at his undiminished comeliness. Elrohir noted their interest and frowned much to his brother's amusement. With marked protectiveness, he drew his own mantle around the prince before seeing to the business of burying or burning the fallen.

It was late afternoon when the company of Elves and Men began the journey to Eryn Gael. The group did not hurry so as not to put too much strain on the injured among them. Elrohir had insisted that Legolas ride with him and had set the prince before him on his steed.

He knew great pleasure and contentment when Legolas leaned back trustingly against him. It had been long since he had felt the Elf-prince's body and warmth next to his. Thankful that his lover was safe, he drew him even closer. The pure woodsy scent teased his nostrils in spite of the expected smells of blood and sweat and long travel. But enticing though it was, he did not attempt anything that would even hint at intimacy. Not when the men could see them. And anyway, Legolas needed rest and time to recover.

Nevertheless, under cover of darkness, when he saw that none were looking his way, he took his chance. He gently blew the prince's hair from his shoulder, baring the side of his neck, and pressed a kiss upon the smooth skin. He felt the tremor that passed through the other's body.

Legolas turned his face toward the twin, his eyes gleaming. Elrohir leaned forward and caught his lips in a quick but heated caress. They smiled at each other before Legolas relaxed against his Elf-knight once more and let himself drift into elvish dreams.

Glossary:  
Ivanneth/Gwirith - Sindarin for September & April  
Edhil – Elves  
meleth – love  
thel neth – younger sister  
muindor - brother  
melethron – male lover

_To be continued_…

**Author Unknown:** Thank you though I wouldn't call Legolas dense as much as in denial abetted by his ignorance and fear of matters of the heart. And it seemed to me that a lusty male Elf like him would affirm and convey his awakening to Elrohir through a sexual encounter wherein he also dominates for a change. Legolas as bottom is nice but not when he's perpetually so! Then it becomes pretty unrealistic for a seasoned warrior and the son of an Elvenking who is a renowned soldier in his own right. In any case, I'm glad you enjoyed the latest chapter enough to do a jig over it. /lol/  
 **calliope-hesper:** Yes, finally. /chuckle/  
 **Lisseyelen:** Thanks so much. It's always lovely to hear from readers that this series has become a favorite. And it's very kind of you to say that people don't know what they're missing. I would venture to say that the lack of reviews is due to the genre (slash), the pairing (I've been told that most FFnet slash fans favor AxL), the rating (M is not part of the default rating range) and perhaps simply because there are more lurkers than there are reviewers. That's all right though - I garnered enough feedback to reassure me when I first posted the series on other sites. _Thank you for making Legolas be smart for once_? Do you mean generally or specifically in this series? (laugh) And it certainly was not my intention to torture anyone. This started out with a basic story-line that grew in the telling thanks in large measure to the twins and Legolas who often took over the writing. It seems to be an occupational hazard when one becomes besotted with one's characters. /sigh/


	92. Calenlass 18 Binding Call

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVII: Binding-Call  
Upon reaching Eryn Gael late that night, the twins bore the prince to his home at once. Turning down help from his servants, they settled Legolas in his bedchamber where Elrohir gently stripped him of his battle-soiled garments and washed him down while Elladan changed the bloody bandages.

Together the brethren changed the wet and stained bed sheets as well. The prince slipped into a healing slumber soon after. A knock on the door called Elladan away while Elrohir built a fire in the hearth.

Elladan returned to his side after a few minutes. "Faramir has just sent word. His scouts have discovered the Orcs' encampment and he plans to attack them at dawn," he quietly said. "I will take our men and join him. You stay here and watch over Legolas."

Elrohir acquiesced gratefully. He looked about the usually neat chamber; noted the neglect due to the archer's frequent and prolonged absences from his home. Naturally, the servants would not touch their lord's personal belongings in his absence.

"I might as well make myself useful and fix what I can. Legolas has scarcely spent any time here in the past four months and nearly every day wasted in battle."

"Four months!" Elladan exclaimed in shock. "'Tis no wonder he and his people were so weary." He sighed, shaking his head. "Let us hope this will be the last of these creatures' incursions into Ithilien for a while. I should be back in three days." He nodded in the sleeping prince's direction. "He will be awake before then. Try to keep him in bed, _muindor_."—brother.

Elrohir snorted. "Keep Legolas in bed?" he echoed. "I will have to sit on him to manage that!"

Elladan grinned. "Do what you must so long as you do not live up to your name and ride him ragged!"

Elrohir blushed deeply at that. With a growl, he punched his brother hard in the arm. Elladan yelped and managed to duck a second blow. Snickering, he slipped out of the bedchamber, leaving a red-faced Elrohir to start on his self-appointed chores.

The younger twin swiftly set things right in the archer's bedchamber. Before long the room began to look as he remembered it. That is, considering the many changes within. As Elrohir had surmised during his months in Rivendell, Legolas had made several alterations to his quarters. It was no longer a room meant for one occupant but a chamber for two lovers.

With a smile, he moved to the writing desk and began to put in order whatever articles were upon it. Pulling open the sole compartment of the table, he spotted a small wooden chest, its contents sticking out and thus preventing the cover from settling properly in place.

He took it out and removed the lid, seeking to rearrange the contents of the chest. A rather foul smell assaulted his nostrils. In disbelief, he picked up three old pipes and a decrepit looking bag that stank of – he wrinkled his nose – pipe-weed! And practically ancient pipe-weed at that! These must have belonged to the Halflings, he realized. Though one of the pipes was larger and longer than the other two. He grinned upon recognizing it.

Of course, that one belonged to Mithrandir. How often had he and Elladan watched the Wizard puff away expertly on it and assailed him for indulging in such a smelly habit? Then again, Estel had also taken it up much to Rivendell's collective dismay.

He returned the pipes and picked up a leaf-shaped clasp. There was no mistaking the craftsmanship of Lórien. His grandparents had gifted each member of the Fellowship with clasps just like this one. Legolas oft used his as a matter of fact. Mayhap this one had belonged to his good friend Gimli?

Setting the clasp down, he fingered the one remaining item in the chest. A small velvety pouch. Curious, he opened it and inverted it onto his hand. A small silver medallion on a thin chain slid onto his palm. Elrohir's eyes widened. He'd seen this medallion before. Tensely, he sought the tiny latch on its side and undid it. The medallion sprung open revealing one lock of black hair. Elrohir's mouth tightened. _Estel_.

He glanced at the sleeping archer, a frown furrowing his brow. He turned back to regard the medallion. Sighing, he closed it and slipped it back into its pouch. Then he neatly restored all the tokens to the chest and returned the container to its rightful place. Useless to dwell on his discovery for now. He would await the prince's awakening.

The following morning, he took it upon himself to see to Legolas' duties around the colony. It was late afternoon when he returned to the prince's halls. Carrying a small basket of healing herbs and fresh bandages, he opened the door to the archer's bedchamber. He stopped in the doorway and had to smile ruefully at the sight that greeted him.

Legolas was seated on the furs before the hearth, staring at the crackling flames. He had pulled a blanket around his frame. Elrohir approached and knelt before him.

"Are you chilled?" he asked softly.

Legolas smiled and nodded. "I find my resistance to the elements somewhat diminished. And I also feel fatigued by the simplest movements."

"'Tis the effects of your injury and the poison," Elrohir said. "It will take time before you truly recover. You should be in bed."

"Nay, I cannot bear to stay there another minute. I prefer to sit here, Elrohir."

The twin sighed. "You have always been too independent of mind for your own good, _Edhelen_."—my Elf. Legolas chuckled. Elrohir smiled and said, "Very well then, sit here if you wish. But I must dress your wounds anew."

He helped Legolas doff his shirt. Elrohir frowned slightly, thinking once more that the bandages marred the woodland Elf's perfection. He unwound them carefully and examined the wounds. "They are healing well," he smiled. He quickly set to work with herbs and bindings.

Legolas sighed with some frustration. The bandages limited his ability to move his arm and he chafed at the restriction. He looked forward to being free of them.

Done with his ministrations, Elrohir put the basket aside and sat back cross-legged before the prince while the latter drew on his shirt once more. The tokens he had found were still on his mind and he considered how to broach the matter to the other Elf. He studied Legolas, wondering how to start.

The prince glanced at him and noted that he was looking at him thoughtfully. "What is it?" he asked.

Elrohir hesitated. "I have been putting your things in order," he said. "Your desk in particular was quite a sight. It seems you left everything in disarray before you went to hunt the Orcs.

Legolas chuckled. "Aye, I did. The missive regarding their raids was so sudden and urgent that I had no time to do more than gather up my people and leave as soon as possible."

Elrohir nodded slowly. "I did not mean to pry or look upon anything you deemed private," he said. "But I did find some things you obviously hold dear." He paused. "I saw the mementos you kept from the Quest. The ones the surviving members of the Company gave you."

He cleared his throat. "I saw the pipes from the Hobbits and Gandalf, the Lórien clasp from Gimli... and the medallion from Estel with a lock of his hair. I could not help noticing that you kept it apart from the others in its own pouch."

The archer looked at him sharply. Legolas anxiously studied the darkling Elf's features for distress of any kind. But Elrohir kept his face impassive. The archer bit his lip. "'Tis his token you wonder about," he murmured. "It troubles you. You think I kept it out of lingering affection for him. I should have cast it away rather than have it disturb you now."

Elrohir looked at the other; noted his creased brow. For a while silence fell between them. "I could not ask you to do such a thing," he finally said. "That you kept it means you consider it precious for the memories it holds for you. But I will not deny that I wondered anew about what passed between you and Estel." He paused, trying to put his thoughts into order. "You told me you would not feel the like again. If that was true... then what is it that you and I have?"

The Elf-rider's face revealed nothing of his thoughts and his words were softly spoken, with no hint of rancor or accusation. But buried in their gentle depths were Elrohir's reawakened doubts. Legolas suddenly realized what he had ignored all along and should have addressed as soon as he'd admitted his feelings for the twin.

In his initial joy and relief at finally winning the archer's love, Elrohir had put aside his reservations regarding Legolas' attachment to Aragorn in the wake of the Quest. But he could not do so indefinitely. Before he could truly believe that he held Legolas' heart in full, he needed to know just where he stood in comparison to his foster brother. Legolas had to banish those ghosts if Elrohir were ever to be wholly at peace with the archer's choice.

Legolas mulled over his words carefully. Whatever he said could very well determine the course of his relationship with Elrohir.

"Aragorn proved to be so much more than I'd ever expected of him," he said at last. "He bore qualities I'd not thought possible in Men. I came to admire him above all others, to trust him with all my heart. For the first time in my life I thought I'd discovered what it was to love." He flinched inwardly when Elrohir's lips involuntarily tightened at this revelation. "That I recovered so swiftly after our parting is proof that this was not so," he offered quickly, hoping to soothe the other.

"Yet you hurt when he wed my sister," Elrohir said flatly. Seeing past the unemotional statement to the skepticism beyond, Legolas reached for the dark-haired Elf's hand and clasped it tightly.

"My feelings were intense given the perils we'd shared and had so recently passed through," he explained. "It was not a simple matter to put them to rest." He looked into Elrohir's eyes, desperately willing the other to truly hear what he was trying to say. "I mistook those feelings for love. Had I perceived this then, I would not have suffered any hurt."

Elrohir's eyes were unreadable. Legolas felt his anxiety rise at the other's demeanor. Then the silvered pools opened to him, darkened with apprehension. "How do you know that you have not made another mistake regarding your feelings for me?" the twin asked so softly, the prince almost did not hear him,

Legolas' eyes widened at the query. There was no mistaking the fear in Elrohir's voice now. The grey eyes were unveiled and vulnerable. He could discern all too clearly the thought in the other's mind. _Will I lose you just when I have gained you?_

Legolas felt his throat tighten with pain for the other. He raised Elrohir's hand to his mouth, pressed his lips against the folded fingers. "I am not mistaken in this," he ardently insisted. "This is not admiration or fellowship turned to passion. I love you, Elrohir. You are my heart's desire, the chosen one of my soul. I would fade from grief if you ever ceased to love me."

Elrohir's eyes flashed at the fervor-drenched declaration. He clasped Legolas' hand tightly in turn. "I could never cease to love you," he said. "You are in my blood; in my very bones."

Legolas smiled, warmed and thrilled by the renewed light in the grey eyes. But he sobered quickly when he glanced down at the gold band on his right hand.

"This ring... I was right, wasn't I?" he whispered haltingly. "You were to give it to your spouse. 'Tis why you gave it to me... because I was... I am your binding-mate."

Elrohir stared at him. "How did you know?" he managed to say.

Legolas colored somewhat. "I deduced it," he admitted. "I may be naught but a blind and foolish Wood-elf but I do have some wits about me." He peered at Elrohir wonderingly. "Why did you do it? You could have accompanied your father to Valinor and awaited me there."

The warrior hesitated. "I would not have long survived in Aman away from you," he admitted. "Our bond of friendship was all that kept my spirit alive."

Legolas paled considerably at this confession. "Why did you not tell me? Why did you do it in secret?" he asked.

Elrohir averted his eyes and stared into the dancing flames. "I did not wish for you to bind to me out of pity or duty," he quietly explained. "And I wanted you to be free if you ever desired to join yourself to another."

Legolas drew in a harsh breath. Eru! That would have been the death of his Elf-knight! Shuddering at the closeness of it all, he decided to give voice to the implacable yearning that had filled even his waking hours whilst they had been apart.

To Elrohir's surprise, he drew the ring from his finger and placed it in the Elf-knight's hand. "I would return this to you that – that you may give it to me at a more – a more propitious time." He drew a deep breath. "Elrohir, as you bound yourself to me, I would bind myself to you," he said in a hushed voice.

Elrohir stared at him, uncertain if he had heard right. After so many years of waiting...!

"Nothing would make me happier than to be joined with you," Legolas nearly whispered. "Will you have me?"

Elrohir was rendered mute. Whatever remaining doubts he may have still harbored all but vanished. Boundless joy followed but, for the moment, the jumble of emotions rendered him incapable of any response, much less speech.

His lack of discernible reaction made Legolas flush and lower his eyes. He was surprised by the warrior's silence. He'd assumed the other desired to complete their mating but it seemed that was not so.

"I am sorry," he murmured. "I thought... That was presumptuous of me."

His dejected apology snapped Elrohir out of his daze. "Nay, you misunderstand me," he hurriedly said in a hushed voice. The prince raised his eyes and saw that Elrohir gazed upon him with all tenderness. "I was only so stunned. I have yearned for this for more years than I care to count." He beamed happily at Legolas. "Aye, I will have you, my golden prince. I will make you mine evermore."

Legolas' eyes turned luminous. His mouth spread into a sweet and joyful smile that snatched the very breath from Elrohir's breast. He soon found it impossible to take in any air at all when the archer hugged him in a crushing embrace with his good arm. Chuckling somewhat breathlessly, he hugged the prince back.

When Legolas let him go, he slipped the ring on then cocked a curious eye at the prince. "But your father? Might he not object? He tolerated what passed between us before but this is not quite the same thing."

Legolas shook his head. "The ancient ways have also taken root in Eryn Lasgalen though the growing has been slower than here," he said. "It will please Adar to know that 'tis you I have chosen. You have always been as another son to him. Our binding will make that a fact as well."

Elrohir laughed softly. "I am glad then," he said. "I would not like to visit Greenwood under threat of your father's frightful rage!"

After a brief bout of laughter, he noticed his Greenleaf had turned rosy with embarrassment. "What is it?" he prompted.

Legolas reddened even more. "I have offered to pledge myself to you," he said, "without even knowing how the Rites are done." At Elrohir's choked back mirth, he glowered and said: "You know 'tis scarcely performed openly in our realm! All I know is hearsay. I have not witnessed them myself. I suppose it is not quite like a conventional marriage between _ellon_ and _elleth_."

Elrohir smiled. "It is not," he agreed. "The Rites are akin to those which bind war-brothers to each other. The sealing of the vows between two of the same kind is not through their progeny but in the mingling of their blood. But gold bands are also exchanged and there is the customary betrothal period of a year—"

"Nay, I do not wish to wait," Legolas said firmly.

Elrohir's eyes widened. "And just how soon do you want the Rites?"

"As soon as I am healed of these wounds, no later."

"But do you not wish to have your family with you?"

"I would rather have us bound soonest. 'Tis enough for me that we do this before my people."

"Why the haste? What is another year?"

"Too long for my liking. As soon as I am healed, Elrohir, not one day later." When Elrohir stared at him in bemusement, Legolas pointed out: "You are already bound to me. What need is there for a long betrothal?"

"Not for me but for you, Legolas," Elrohir replied. "Do you not care to observe the custom?"

Legolas shook his head and said: "I nearly lost you because of my folly, dearest. I will not make that mistake again. The sooner we are bound, the better. Now, what else is needed?"

Elrohir's stare softened to a tender gaze. "Well, 'tis customary to have one's parents or kin or mayhap a close friend present one to one's mate-to-be," he replied.

Legolas nodded. "Elladan can do that for you," he said. "And Nimeithel will not mind doing the same for me."

The warrior paused thoughtfully. "I would rather you asked Estel," he said at length.

Legolas raised his eyebrow at that. "Why?"

Elrohir replied, "Indulge me in this, Calenlass. It will lay the past to rest to have Estel present you to me."

The prince understood. "Very well then," he agreed. "Arwen will also insist on being there," he added.

The twin snickered. "Aye, we will never hear the end of it if we leave her out of this. But she is very near her time. I shudder to think of her whelping in the middle of everything!"

Legolas laughed with amusement at the picture the warrior had conjured before smiling at him with glowing affection. Elrohir started at the sight of that smile. He swallowed hard. But he could also see the bindings peeking out from the front of Legolas' open shirt. Desire strove with concern, threatened to overtake the other.

Deciding to remove himself from the vicinity of temptation, Elrohir made to rise to his feet, muttering, "I had better leave."

A strong grip on his wrist stayed him. "Do not go," Legolas softly implored. "I need you, Aduial."

The twin did not miss the blatant hunger in the archer's voice. "I need you, too, Legolas," he managed to say. "But much as I long to..." He shook his head to clear it of the treacherous waves of passion that sought to drown his common sense. "You are in no condition for us to do this."

"I will be in worse condition if we do not," the prince insisted. He raised his hands to cup the other's face. "Please, _melethron_, I missed you so much. Do not deny me."

Elrohir let out a shaky breath. He had been so used to being the one to seek intimacy that he still found it a matter of astonishment whenever Legolas took the initiative. But it was irresistibly seductive as well. Surrendering to their shared yearning, he leaned forward and caught the prince's lips in a rapturously covetous kiss.

Legolas eagerly welcomed the invasion. He elatedly inhaled the twin's distinctive scent, one he had missed during their separation.

Despite his numerous and oft protracted absences from Rivendell, Elrohir still retained the evocative scent of his birthplace. It recalled the clean, rushing waters of the Bruinen, fresh breezes and open skies, sun-dappled meadows and the heather and pine upon the slopes that led down into the narrow vale. It had always comforted him and made him feel utterly secure. Now it seduced him, made him weak with wanting.

And I took it for granted all these years, Legolas thought. I took _him_ for granted. I had to nearly lose him before I realized how precious he is. He reached for the ties on Elrohir's shirt; undid them swiftly in his impatience to see, touch, taste the warrior's skin once more.

They suffered their lips to part only as long as was needed to undress. Still devouring each other's mouths, they lay upon the furs before the hearth. Conscious of the archer's wounds, Elrohir was gentleness itself. He softly bade the prince to lie still and allow him to attend to his needs. With deliberate slowness, he moved down the archer's withy frame – kissing, stroking, sucking, claiming. Succored and enraptured by such tender pleasuring, Legolas scarcely felt any discomfort from his injuries.

At the height of their coupling, Elrohir, ever mindful of Legolas' wounds, turned the archer on his uninjured side, slipped behind him and pulled him into the curve of his own body. Taking Legolas thus, he kept his prince free from pain or further injury without sacrificing any of the pleasure of their coupling.

As their bodies moved together, the twin felt the tremors build within the slender body in his arms, matching the quivering in his own limbs. Reaching around, he stroked the prince until the other was gasping wildly with need. He held the archer snugly against his own form, pressing hungry kisses to the sensitive flesh just behind his ear with each thrust into the lissome form.

Shaking, perilously close to the end of his endurance, Legolas turned his head, mutely begging Elrohir to claim his lips. He savored the almost bruising force of the warrior's kiss. And then, they swallowed each other's groans as blissful release overcame them simultaneously.

After withdrawing from Legolas, Elrohir waited for his heart to slow down, his breathing to return to normal. Raising himself upon an elbow, he looked down upon the archer and saw he was also awaiting the calm after the storm. He noted that Legolas looked utterly exhausted. Worry crept into his thoughts that they should not have done this when the prince was still recovering from his injuries. He reached for the blanket and pulled it up over both of them.

Legolas lay back and looked up at the darkling Elf; he saw his concern. "I was loath to put it off, _mîr nîn_"—my treasure—he murmured with a tired but happy smile.

Elrohir's anxiety dissipated and he curled an arm around the archer. "You are weary," he murmured. "Sleep, Calenlass. I will watch over you."

He held Legolas protectively against his chest and chastely kissed the golden crown. Feeling the prince's hand curl possessively over his, the Elvenlord smiled with utmost contentment.

Glossary:  
Adar – Father  
ellon - male Elf  
elleth - Elf-maid  
melethron – male lover

_To be continued_…

**Anonom:** Thank you for pointing out the typo; I made the correction. Please don't apologize for helping me fix an error I did not spot previously. And I'm very glad you enjoy this story. It's very heartening to know.  
**Lisseyelen:** Thank you though I did not intend for Legolas to be stupid. /shakes head/ He was merely ignorant and afraid of venturing into love with all its potential dire consequences. By the way, I must inform you that the series was never completed at Library of Moria because the site went down for a year and I have not updated there since.  
**Nina:** You're so right, Aragorn and Arwen's reactions were not truly reasonable but simply instinctive and done out of love for Elrohir.  
**kanefire:** It's very kind of you to say so. Thank you so much. This makes all the effort worth it.  
**Sitting on a Park Bench:** Glad you liked it.


	93. Calenlass 19 Affirmation

**AN:** As mentioned in the header at the beginning of this story, I relied primarily on the three main books – _The Silmarillion_, _The Hobbit_ and LotR. In none of them were any of Faramir's children named and so I took the liberty of providing my own name for his eldest son and heir. It was only when I decided to do more thorough research on the ruling family of Dol Amroth for a later story that I found out that the eldest son had been given a name in PoME. So please bear with me on this matter. In any case, I think my choice was well within the bounds of logic and probability. Hopefully, you'll agree.

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVIII: Affirmation  
Eryn Gael, Ithilien, _Lothron_ F.A. 22  
The binding Rites did not take place until nearly six weeks later despite Legolas' protests. Their indulgence, no matter how soothing to the archer's soul, had exhausted his body and retarded his recovery. Upon his return from the successful strike against the Orcs, Elladan, knowing his twin all too well, had immediately discerned the cause of the prince's slow healing and chided his brother with mingled exasperation and humor.

"You would think a healer would know better than to tire his patient beyond endurance!" he gibed the younger twin.

Chastened, Elrohir promptly delayed the holding of the ceremony and even moved out of Legolas' chambers. The prince bore the enforced separation stoically though he chafed at what he considered an unnecessary delay of their binding. But then Elrohir further discomfited him in the days that followed after Elladan departed for Minas Tirith to await Nimeithel's arrival. It started one evening after they had dinner.

"I would have you use the time to think over the seriousness of the Rites, _melethron_"—lover—Elrohir suggested.

Legolas glanced at him with upraised eyebrows. "What is there to think about?" he queried. "As it is, I deplore this delay. I will soon be hale and more than ready for the ceremony."

Elrohir only regarded him speculatively then nodded. After a tender kiss, he retired to his own chamber. Again. It frustrated Legolas immensely though he understood the need for it.

But to his surprise the warrior continued to maintain his distance even after his injuries had completely healed and his strength had been fully restored. His dismay deepened when Elrohir even took to avoiding being alone with him. He remained as doting and loving as ever but he simply refused to be lured back into the archer's bed.

He did not understand the darkling Elf's strange evasiveness and since Elrohir would not explain his reasons, the archer was left to try and unravel the mystery by himself. He had to put quite a bit of effort into putting on a cheerful face when Elladan returned a few days later with his wife.

Unmindful of the small crowd of onlookers that gathered in the clearing to catch a glimpse of their lord's sister, Nimeithel promptly and happily hugged Legolas then drew Elrohir into an elated embrace. After a merry few minutes of greetings, they entered the archer's halls. A good thing for Legolas' dignity considering the conversation that followed.

"I am so happy for you and Elrohir, _muindoren_"—my brother— Nimeithel chirped. "'Tis about time you finally realized you belong together."

"Tell that to Legolas," Elrohir said with a wry grin.

Nimeithel giggled. "Forgive him, _gwanur_. He can be so mule-headed about these things. But as you can see, the truth will out in the end."

Legolas, caught between laughter and a scowl at her irreverence, asked, "What truth?"

His sister beamed at him. "That you loved Elrohir all these years but were too stubborn to admit it."

Legolas stared at her, startled. "Why do you say that, _thel neth_?"— younger sister?

"Oh, come now, you were never the same after you first yielded to him," she replied.

Elrohir looked from her to Legolas, intrigued, especially when he saw the puzzlement in the latter's countenance. "How was he not the same?" he questioned Nimeithel.

The princess willingly obliged. "Never again did he bed an Elf-maid with anything more than lust and he certainly did not yearn for any male's touch; not even the _aran_ Gondor's at the height of his infatuation with him."

Legolas nearly choked. "How did you know about that?" he gasped.

"You were so obvious when you returned to Greenwood after the War," Nimeithel answered blithely. "You talked to me about nothing else but Elessar. You should have heard him, _gwanur_," she addressed Elrohir with a droll roll of her lovely eyes. "I thought he would never stop!"

"Indeed," Elrohir dryly said, turning mildly reproachful eyes on his lover. Legolas turned a deep red, whether out of embarrassment or guilt or both only he could say for certain.

Ignoring their byplay, Elladan stared at his wife. "But he loved Estel," he said. "How could he not desire him?"

Nimeithel chortled and shook her head at her husband. "He _thought_ himself in love," she corrected. "Did I not say he was mule-headed? Just because Elrohir was free and Aragorn was not, what does he do but turn to the one he deemed unavailable and therefore safe. You are fortunate Elrohir did not give up on you so quickly, _tôr vell_, else where would you be now?" She giggled at the varied expressions on the others' faces.

"This is certainly interesting," Elladan remarked glancing from his twin to the prince.

Elrohir, smirking, nodded in agreement. "Aye, this certainly is."

Legolas prudently kept silent.

Nimeithel proved a welcome distraction, her wit and high spirits alleviating her brother's frustration for a spell. But even that could not last and soon he was back where he started, as much in the dark as ever and striving to keep his sister from noticing it, a mighty feat in its own right. He was at his wits' end by the time Gondor's royal family arrived for the ceremony with three befuddled Hobbits in tow.

Samwise Gamgee, now third time mayor of the Shire, along with his dear wife, Mistress Rose, and their pretty daughter, Elanor, had been visiting with his old friend, Strider, when the missive from Eryn Gael was delivered to Gondor's royal consorts. Naturally, Aragorn and Arwen had invited the Halflings to come along in order to witness the nuptials of Sam's Elf friend. What they forgot to inform the three of was who it was Legolas would be bound to.

Therefore, it was with a good deal of shock, astonishment and wonder that the Gamgees learned the identity of the Elven prince's betrothed. But after the initial surprise they swiftly accustomed themselves to the idea and threw themselves into the settlement-wide merriment with their typical hobbitish zeal for parties and feasts.

The reunion with the royal family threatened to be more awkward. Until this moment, Legolas' communications with them had been purely through courier-borne letters. Elladan, having been given leave to reveal the whole truth to them, had already done so. Thus the invitation had not been a shock to them. Nevertheless, the memory of uncivil words hung between them and forebode an uneasy first meeting even with the tempering presence of Elladan and Nimeithel.

But Eldarion would have none of it. Hardly had Legolas conducted Sam and his family to their quarters and returned to the main hall where the others awaited when the youth regretfully hugged the archer. There was no need for words between them after that.

Arwen soon replaced her son in the startled Elf's arms. That she was now huge with child and more than filled his embrace to capacity may have had a little to do with his surprise. Taking Legolas aback by beating him to it, the Queen apologized to her soon-to-be law-brother with all alacrity.

"I was too harsh with you, _gwador_"—sworn brother—she murmured contritely. "All I can say in my defense is that I feared for my brother's life. Will you forgive me?"

Legolas regarded her gently. "You have ever been fierce when it comes to your family's welfare," he said. "I would not have you any other way, Arwen. And you did right to assail me. I did not treat Elrohir as he deserved and for that I must ask you to forgive me."

Arwen simply hugged him harder. They both glanced up as Aragorn cleared his throat and looked at Legolas quite repentantly.

"I, too, must ask your pardon, _meldiren_"—my friend—he said. "After all we went through together during the Quest, I should have realized that you were incapable of hurting Elrohir intentionally. I fear I was too protective of my brother's heart."

With apologies flying to and fro, the mood bid fair to turn maudlin. No wonder Elladan thought to take a hand in the proceedings.

"Aye, you have ever been protective of Elrohir, Estel," he grinned. "But then that is not surprising considering how notoriously attached you were to him in your youth."

To the others' surprise, Aragorn turned a bright scarlet and suddenly could not quite look Elrohir in the eye. Eldarion glanced at his Elf-uncle curiously.

"What is wrong with _Adar_?"—Father—he asked.

"Elladan..." Elrohir said warningly though a smirk blunted his biting tone.

Elladan ignored him. "Why, nothing, _pen neth_"—young one—he said to Eldarion. "Except... do you recall why I took you whoring in Edoras six summers ago?"

Eladarion colored slightly but nodded. "Aye, 'twas because _Naneth_ did not wish for me to follow the ancient path."

Arwen smiled and shook her head. "Nay, 'twas not that I feared you would follow the path but that once on it you might choose as my brother did. 'Tis not the way of Men and I did not think it wise for you to ever consider exploring it."

Eldarion grinned. "Well, whatever your reasons, _Nana_, Uncle Elladan certainly took care of it!"

"As I did for your father," Elladan announced to the king's dismay. He chuckled when Aragorn shook his head at him almost frantically. "Only it was not simply the awakening of our duality in him that your Grandfather Elrond feared but an unseemly devotion to Elrohir himself!"

Four sets of eyes stared at him in shock. Then almost simultaneously, Legolas, Arwen and Eldarion snapped their stares at an almost cringing King of Gondor.

"Aragorn!"

"Estel!"

"_Ada!_"

Nimeithel did not quite know what to make of her husband's revelation. "I cannot believe this," she gasped. "Elessar was infatuated with Elrohir!"

Aragorn sputtered at the idea. "'Twas hero-worship!" he objected. "I was but a lad!"

He started when Arwen stepped in front of him with a menacing glare. "Hero-worship indeed!" she said acidly. "Answer me this, husband. Who was it that really stayed you against Legolas' charms? I or my brother?"

Another round of shocked reactions figuratively shook the hall. Aragorn stared at his wife as did Legolas.

"You know? How did—?"

Nimeithel tapped her brother's arm ruefully. "I fear 'tis my doing," she admitted. As all eyes turned to her, she shrugged. "Well, I wanted to set things right between you and Arwen so I told her something of your troubles that she might better understand your behavior."

Aragorn muttered: "You are indeed Elladan's wife."

Arwen's expression grew even more suspicious. "I am awaiting an answer, Estel," she reminded him.

Faced with a patently displeased wife, Aragorn blurted out unthinkingly: "Arwen, do not be absurd. I simply did not feel for Legolas as he did for me."

Legolas suddenly bristled. "Let me make one thing clear before this ridiculous situation worsens," he growled. He addressed Arwen. "Idiot that I was, I mistook certain feelings for more than they really were. But now I can and shall say this. I do not love Aragorn in _that_ way nor did I once or ever will."

He turned to Aragorn and of a sudden jabbed an accusing finger into the thoroughly flustered monarch's chest. "And I would know your answer to Arwen's question before I ever leave Elrohir alone with you again for any length of time!"

The sight of his masterful sire retreating before his mother and the archer was too much for Eldarion to bear. The Crown Prince of Gondor whooped with laughter and began to shake so violently that Nimeithel had to steady him. His mirth grew even heartier as he listened to his father stumble and blunder through a series of explanations and protestations to his queen and erstwhile quest-companion respectively.

Elrohir rolled his eyes then glanced at his twin. A fond smile curved his lips.

"Thank you, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—he chuckled.

Elladan snickered back. "You're very welcome, _gwanneth_."—younger twin.

It was fortunate for Aragorn that another party arrived within the day.

Legolas had also taken care to invite Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, his wife, Éowyn, and their son and heir, Boromir. Faramir was, after all, his direct overlord and courtesy required that Legolas inform him at the very least. But the Steward of Gondor was also a good friend and close ally and that alone would have prompted the invitation.

As to what Éowyn and Boromir would make of the binding of male and male spirit, he trusted the learned steward-prince to elucidate the matter to them. The only caveat in the missive he'd sent to Emyn Arnen was that the occasion be kept a secret from the rest of Gondor. Legolas was not about to set Elessar's more hostile nobles against himself by having it known he'd taken the king's foster-brother as his spouse. As he put it in the letter to Faramir, most Men simply did not understand many elven customs, least of all one that was deemed unnatural by them.

Last to show up was a patently smug Gimli whose first words to his friend after the usual greetings bewildered everyone else.

"Legolas," Aragorn said with a furrowed brow. "Why did Gimli shout 'In a pig's eye' at you?"

A rosy-faced Legolas was perforce compelled to recount to the whole group what he and the Dwarf had argued about in Rohan more than two decades ago. It certainly provided a most lively discussion at the evening meal much to his discomfiture and Gimli's glee. He was greatly relieved when the women turned the talk to the upcoming festivities.

The colony was in a state of anticipation. There was great joy and excitement at the imminent joining of the two Elvenlords, one a prince of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm, the other twin Lord of Imladris and scion of the former rulers of the Galadhrim of Lothlórien. The folk of the Glimmering Wood understandably rejoiced at this binding of two such noble houses.

But Legolas could not quite share in the gaiety. Not when his betrothed seemed lacking in enthusiasm about the upcoming nuptials. He'd thought that things would go back to normal with the arrival of family and friends for Elrohir had remained by his side throughout. But as soon as everyone settled in he reverted to his previous evasive behavior. And with guests everywhere, it became even more difficult for the archer to pin his lover down. It just about drove Legolas into fits of melancholy and exasperation.

He was quite sunk in one such fit when Arwen inadvertently brought things to a head.

Dispirited by Elrohir's behavior, he made his way to the glade that was his sanctuary. By the soothing gurgle of the spring and its waterfall, he hoped to balm his ruffled feelings. So it was with surprise and some resentment that he caught sight of Elrohir strolling nearby with Arwen, so deep in discussion with her that he did not sense the archer's presence.

He pursed his mouth disapprovingly. He'd always considered the glade a secret place, a private refuge to be shared only with the Elf-warrior. What had possessed Elrohir to bring his sister here? He watched as the twin soon walked away, leaving the Queen seated upon a fallen tree. He wondered where Elrohir was going and why he had left his so-very pregnant sibling behind.

A moment later, Arwen espied him and smilingly beckoned to him. Caught, he could only accede to her friendly summons.

"Are you comfortable, _gwathel_?"—sworn sister—he asked as he neared her.

"Well enough," she replied.

He eyed her alarmingly wide girth. "You are all but ready to burst," he said with a grin. "Indeed, we feared you would not be able to travel here."

Arwen dimpled. "I would not miss this for all the _mithril_ in Moria," she said. She sighed and adjusted her position, instinctively rubbing her swollen belly with her hand. "Ai, may this little one wait a little longer. I do not wish to birth in front of all Eryn Gael!"

Worried, Legolas looked about for her brother. Elbereth forbid that the Queen should whelp _here_ without anyone to assist her save for a Wood-elf ignorant of such matters.

"Why did Elrohir leave you here?" he queried.

Arwen's smile faded somewhat. "To think on what we were discussing," she replied.

"A discussion that looked quite ponderous from where I was standing," Legolas commented.

The Queen looked up at him thoughtfully. "You were an intrinsic part of it," she softly admitted. "Elrohir seeks to ascertain your feelings regarding your binding-to-be."

"My feelings?" Legolas perplexedly echoed,

"Yes, _ernilen_. He wishes to ascertain just how deep your feelings run before you take this irrevocable step."

"I do not understand." Legolas frowned. "Does he doubt my sincerity?"

"Nay, not your sincerity but your – commitment to this course." Arwen noted his startled reaction. She pressed on gingerly. "Just seven months past, you declared yourself incapable of returning his love, of cleaving your heart to his. Now you would be his binding-mate for all eternity." The Queen hesitated upon seeing the prince's wary expression. "The meat of the matter is this," she said at length. "Are you certain of your feelings about this? It would be a tragedy should they change after you have taken vows. There is no breaking such a bond in Arda."

Indignant words itched to escape Legolas' lips but he was so taken aback by his discovery that his voice failed him. Before he could break the strained silence, it was broken for him.

"Aye, I would know if there is any doubt in your heart, Calenlass."

The prince turned sharply to face Elrohir. He'd been so disconcerted by Arwen's words that he had failed to notice the other's return. He peered at the twin, searching his impassive countenance. Suspicion flared up within him.

"You _do_ doubt me," Legolas hissed, hurt springing to his eyes. "You think me inconstant, unworthy of your trust."

"Legolas—"

"Do you wish to call off the Rites, Elrohir?"

Elrohir stared at him. "What makes you think that?"

The archer trembled visibly. "You delayed them beyond the time I had desired. And then you forsook my company pleading my wounds as your excuse. But even when I had healed, you still shunned my—" He stopped abruptly, blushing as he recalled Arwen's presence. With a frustrated groan he turned away, clenching his fists at his sides.

Arwen rose from her perch as swiftly as her advanced condition allowed her. "I think I had best leave you two to settle this matter," she murmured. At Legolas' concerned backward glance, she added, "Do not worry, _gwador_. I am not yet so far gone as not to be able to manage the short walk back to your halls."

As soon as she departed, Elrohir placed soothing hands on the archer's tense shoulders. "You misunderstand my intentions, Legolas."

"Then why your distance?" the archer asked dolorously. "Why did you stay away?"

"I wanted to give you time and space to reconsider."

"Reconsider what?"

"Your decision to commit yourself to me."

"You suggested this before but I did not realize..." Legolas spun around, his eyes wide with pain and confusion. "You do not trust me," he whispered. "You think me capable of breaking even the most sacred of vows."

"Nay, I know you would never break a vow no matter how onerous it could come to be," Elrohir demurred. "And for that reason I would not have you make them at all rather than have you repent of them after. But trust you I do, with my life if need be."

"Then why do you question my heart?"

"Because you are newly come to love. I have known my heart for centuries uncounted. You owned it ere you ever wanted it. But you have only opened yourself to me this past year. I do not want you trapped for all time by dint of a rash decision."

"'Tis no rash decision," Legolas chokingly said. "I spent a half-year thinking of nothing else. I may not have known my heart for long but I know it well. I want this, Elrohir. I want to join my life to yours."

Elrohir was tempted to take him at his word that very instant. Nonetheless, he pressed on with his benign inquisition. The afternoon was wearing on and he had to be sure that they were doing the right thing.

"Are you absolutely certain of this?" he softly queried. "'Tis eternity we speak of. Should you regret your choice, there will be no turning back. I would not have you burdened by a joining you can never escape."

"It would be a greater burden to be denied eternity with you. I cannot conceive of life without you. Why do you question me so, Aduial?" Fear leapt into his eyes as a new idea arose to plague him. "Is it that _you_ no longer desire this?" he gasped. "Do you regret that you bound yourself to me?"

Elrohir was caught unawares by the allegation. "Nay! I have never regretted that!" he exclaimed when he found his tongue. "If I do this 'tis not because I do not want you but because I wish to protect you."

"By breaking my heart?"

The crystalline eyes gleamed with suspicious brightness. With a pang, Elrohir realized the archer was close to tears and manfully holding them back. Stricken with remorse at reducing the proud prince to such a state, he pulled him into a tight embrace, burying his face in the golden mane.

"Forgive me, Legolas," he whispered at length, drawing slightly away. "'Twas never my intention to hurt you. In truth, had I my wits about me when you first broached this matter, I would have urged you to think on it. I only want what is right for both of us." He felt the lean form stiffen in his arms and hastened to add: "If you are certain of your choice, if you would truly join your heart to mine, then we shall bind to each other this day."

Legolas took a deep breath. His eyes blazed with conviction as he said: "I am certain of my choice, Elrohir. I would pledge my heart to you now and for all eternity."

Elrohir caught his breath. The words were as close as could be to the actual vows spoken during the Rites. There was no doubting Legolas' commitment to him. He drew the prince back into his arms. "So be it," he quietly declared.

For a few minutes, they stayed thus, savoring their renewed closeness. But the archer could not remain relaxed for long.

"Why did you not tell me of your concerns?" Legolas asked vexedly against the twin's shoulder. "You only spoke of it that once and I thought it of no great import to you."

Elrohir sighed. "You can be as single-minded as a Hobbit with a barrel of beer. You would never have agreed to think your decision over once you'd made it."

Legolas pulled away, indignation in his countenance once more. "There was no need!"

"That is exactly what I knew you would say," Elrohir commented wryly. "'Tis why I did not press you after the first time I broached the subject. The more I suggested it, the more you would have resisted. But I also knew you would think on it on your own once I introduced the idea to you."

"Aye, I did wonder about it though I did not change my mind in the least," Legolas conceded. "But why did you stay away from me?" he demanded. "You knew I wanted you."

"I did not want you to weaken my resolve in turn," the Elf-warrior admitted. "One touch from you is enough to addle my brain, Legolas. I would have ended up influencing you into a decision of my own liking."

Legolas let out an exasperated breath. "The workings of your mind are more tortuous than Mithrandir's at his worst!" he chided. "And what of Arwen?" he queried tartly. "What did she tell you that made you go off by yourself? Was she trying to dissuade you?"

"Far from it," Elrohir demurred. "On the contrary, she tried to make me see my folly."

"Your folly?"

"Aye. She pointed out to me that had you entertained second thoughts you would have let me know by now."

Legolas' eyes narrowed ominously making the Elf-knight suddenly uneasy.

"How ironic," the archer remarked acerbically, "that your sister, who once thought I should be strung from the highest tree for denying you, now seems to trust me more than you do."

Elrohir winced at the accusatory tone. "I suppose I deserve that," he murmured ruefully. He reached out a supplicating hand. "I am sorry." When Legolas' did not respond, he let his hand drop resignedly. "Are you certain you still wish to bind yourself to me?" he asked meekly.

The blue eyes flashed. "Let's not start _that_ again!" Legolas growled.

He pulled the warrior into a near-backbreaking embrace and proceeded to kiss him senseless. Before long, his ardor was such that they were both shaking with want and might have succumbed to the rampant need to couple in that instant had Elrohir not recalled the reason for their argument in the first place.

With much regret, he broke the kiss, doing his best to ignore Legolas' annoyed reaction. "The Rites begin at sundown, _ind nîn_"—my heart— he gently reminded the prince while insistently pulling him along. "We need to prepare ourselves." When the mutinous expression on the other's face did not quite fade away, he grinned cheekily and pointed out, "I would not have us tardy due to something we shall have ample time to indulge in _after_ the ceremony."

Legolas' eyes glittered menacingly. "Then you should have ample opportunity to make amends for what you put me through!" he retorted.

"Calenlass, believe me when I say that is one duty I am looking forward to fulfilling," the twin chuckled salaciously.

At that, Legolas' mulish mood abruptly suffered a sea change. It was a fortunate thing (or regrettable depending on one's point of view) that Gimli and Sam came strolling into view at that moment else the prince would have pounced on his Elf-knight right there and then. That would have delayed the ceremony beyond reason as well as rendered Dwarf and Hobbit crimson beyond recognition.

Glossary:  
Lothron - Sindarin for May  
gwanur – 'brother' or 'sister' but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
aran Gondor - King of Gondor  
tôr vell – dear brother  
Ada - Papa  
Naneth, Nana – Mother, Mama  
ernilen – my prince

_To be continued_…


	94. Calenlass 20 Heart's Pledge

**AN:** The blood Rite described in this chapter is by no means part of canon and is purely my invention as is the effect it has on Elves. But blood pacts were performed in olden times between would-be allies to seal their vows of allegiance to each other. Another custom, the ritual bedding of newlyweds, was practiced in England and some European cultures in the early centuries of the last millennium. I simply borrowed both traditions and used them for my own purposes.

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIX: Heart's Pledge  
The Elves gathered in the great clearing where they had held the victory bonfire less than a year ago. As was the custom of their kindred, the binding Rites would be held under the stars with all the Powers of Arda as witnesses to the nuptial vows. The sweetest, most lyrical songs wafted in the twilight breeze as they celebrated this latest, more joyous occasion.

Eldarion and Boromir looked about them with interest. The two were fairly close in age and had quickly become friends upon their first meeting years ago. As such, they were seated together, commenting on the proceedings. Though the entire colony seemed to be present, there was an intimacy and simplicity to the event, which was what Elrohir and Legolas desired. Yet the atmosphere was no less solemn or enchanting for the lack of grandeur or courtly trappings. Even the Elflings were hushed and respectful, seeming to understand the significance of what was about to occur.

Legolas slipped quietly into their midst with Aragorn at his side. There was a collective drawing of breaths when he appeared. He was resplendent in a snowy white over-tunic, which opened nearly to his waist revealing the high-collared silken white shirt beneath. The intricate yet delicate embroidery on the garment was done in muted gold purl recalling the beech trees and wildflowers of Greenwood. His belt was a gold chain in the likeness of overlapping leaves. A simple woven gold circlet crowned his fair head. But his long breeches and soft boots matched the whiteness of his clothing.

A golden prince indeed, Arwen thought approvingly. She sat comfortably between Gimli and Nimeithel. Across the small space wherein the Rites would take place were Faramir and Éowyn. They exchanged delighted smiles with her. They had never yet witnessed an elven nuptial ceremony let alone one between two _ellyn_ though Faramir, ever Gandalf's able student, had read about them.

It did not take long for Elrohir to make his appearance. With Elladan at his side, he came up the short path between the gathered Elves and made his way to Legolas. Like the archer before him, the younger prince of Imladris was breathtaking to behold. If Legolas was glimmering gold, he was shining silver and crystal.

He was clad in a pristine ceremonial tunic very much like the fair archer's but a jeweled belt encircled his waist, tiny diamonds alternating with miniature sapphires along its length, the only hint of another color in his attire. Crystalline stars adorned the white raiment against skillfully wrought clouds of silver purl, mirroring the _elenath_—the starry host—in the firmament above. The shirt beneath was white and unadorned save for the silver edging on the high collar and sleeve cuffs. His breeches and boots were also white but upon his raven head was the pure _mithril_ circlet he'd worn on the day of Eldarion's betrothal.

There were no elaborate rituals, no prolonged speeches and the like. In low, reverent voices, the two betrothed called upon Iluvatar, the All-Father, and the mighty Valar to bear witness to their union and invoked their blessings upon it. Responding to some sign only the Firstborn could perceive, Elladan signed to Aragorn to take Legolas' right hand and offer it to Elrohir even as he did likewise with his brother. Hands raised and clasped between them in the manner of sworn war-brothers, the two lovers then recited their vows, their eyes locked in solemn devotion, Elrohir renewing his pledge, Legolas making his for the first time.

Silence fell as they softly and tenderly voiced the ancient covenant of bound Elves, promising their hearts and spirits to each other for all eternity. Rapt wonder reigned and the stars shone ever brighter as they exchanged the gold bands of their binding, Elrohir slipping the exquisite heirloom ring of the House of Elrond down Legolas' right index finger. In turn, Legolas presented him with a band of intertwined leaves of gold and _mithril_ with a single emerald of astonishing color and clarity.

Intuitively, Elrohir knew the ring was of dwarven make and he sought Gimli's gaze. The grin the Dwarf cast him confirmed his supposition and he smiled in return.

"'Tis beautiful, Calenlass," he murmured as Legolas slipped it onto his finger. But he thought the prince's smile of pleasure more precious than any treasure in Arda.

The lingering kiss they shared afterwards was the first they'd ever done in public. So tender and affectionate was it that not even the guests with no previous exposure to same-kind pairings could find anything abhorrent in it. Indeed, Éowyn was seen to brush happy tears from her eyes while the Hobbits smiled indulgently at this display of profound love.

The feast following the Rites was less restrained. Music and laughter filled the air, food and drink flowed generously and gaiety was the rule.

Sam would never know how he and his wife and daughter came to be dancing a woodland jig with Elladan and several other Elves; he only knew he would forever treasure Gimli's indescribable expression at being pressed into joining the same dance. Meanwhile, Eldarion and Boromir found themselves trying to outdo several Galadhrim in a drinking competition and were only kept from getting disgracefully inebriated by the sudden intervention of their respective fathers.

Content to remain at one of the long dining tables with the women, the newly bound pair none-too-patiently waited out the festivities. Even when the others rejoined them, it was clear they were aching to be elsewhere.

The King grinned at their patently desirous glances at each other and murmured something to Gimli and Faramir about the shameful lustfulness of Elves. To which the Dwarf, still red from embarrassment due to his questionable performance in the jig, testily said, "And they are far too gamesome as well. Why I ever allowed myself to be cornered by a passel of confounded Elves is beyond me!"

On the verge of reprimanding Aragorn for his cheeky observation, Legolas was suddenly distracted by the large bowl of plump berries and a low jug of cream an Elf set before them. He glanced from the mirthful monarch to Elrohir who was chatting with Éowyn. With a small smile, he took a berry and carefully dipped it in the cream. A light touch on the Elf-knight's arm drew the latter's attention.

Elrohir started when he found a luscious berry glistening with cream close to his lips but he obediently parted his lips at Legolas' silent behest. The berry was gently tipped into his mouth, followed by a fingertip wiping a smidgen of cream from his lips. He watched in fascination as Legolas sucked that smidgen from his finger, his eyes never leaving the Elf-rider. Chewing the piece of fruit slowly, Elrohir curiously regarded his mate.

Legolas fed Elrohir more berries, each time deliberately smearing a bit of cream on the twin's lips, which he wiped off with his finger and then sucked clean. It dawned on Elrohir that the prince was making amends for the incident the year before when he had unfairly chided the warrior for feeding him before Aragorn. His twilight eyes darkened thoughtfully.

Caught up in their intimate diversion, neither Elf noticed that the conversation had died down around them or that those at their table had paused to watch the two indulge in what was for all intents and purposes a subtle form of love-play.

When Legolas fed him a fourth berry, Elrohir caught the archer by the wrist and drew the latter's fingers into his mouth. Under the prince's wide-eyed gaze, he purposefully divested the trapped fingers of every bit of berry juice and cream. Legolas hissed when the barely repressed pooled warmth in his groin turned into active molten heat. He just knew that were it not for the table, no one would be able to ignore the needful state of his body.

Arwen could not suppress the happy smile that graced her lovely face. Nevertheless, judging from the popeyed stares of Gimli and the Hobbits, the surreptitious glances Eldarion and Boromir exchanged, and the raised eyebrows of Faramir and Éowyn, it was time to bring the temperature down a little. She coughed ostentatiously to snare their attention.

The two glanced up in surprise. Only then did they realize that they'd become the center of everyone's regard. Seldom unnerved by such instances, Elrohir managed a charming scapegrace smile but Legolas, always the more reserved in these matters, blushed deeply much to his friends' amusement.

"I think 'tis time this pair finished the Rites," Elladan chuckled. "I have no desire to watch my twin take our golden prince upon this table."

This time Elrohir scowled, affected when it was his irrepressible twin who teased him.

Aragorn laughed. "Aye, _gwanur_, you are right. To bed, both of you!"

"But not to sleep!" Sam added daringly, much to his wife's shock.

Tempted to retort, Legolas realized that this was just what he wanted. Returning the Hobbit's playful smile, he rose, pulling Elrohir to his feet. "Indeed, let us make haste," he said with an uncharacteristic lack of constraint. "Before we scandalize all the _pin nith_."—young ones.

Neither Faramir nor Sam declined the invitation to their families to witness the completion of the Rites. Quietly slipping away from the revelry, the group walked back to the Elven prince's halls. There they proceeded to Legolas' bedchamber, which he would share with Elrohir from this day forth. A small fire crackled softly in the hearth, prepared by the prince's faithful servants.

The newly-bound Elves were stripped of their tunics, shirts, belts and shoes, their circlets removed and hair unbound and unplaited, leaving them clothed in naught but their breeches. Elladan and Eldarion did the honors for Elrohir while Aragorn and Nimeithel did their part for Legolas.

It struck Éowyn that had only Elves been present, both princes would have been totally disrobed. Watching in fascination, she commented to her family and the Hobbits on this fact and wondered at its similarity to the bedding ritual of newlyweds in Rohan wherein bride and groom were also unclothed before close kin as a gesture of good faith between their two families that there was nothing physically wrong with either spouse. Arwen overheard her.

"But the reasons behind the two traditions are very different," she softly informed them. "They will seal their vows through their blood as they cannot do so through children. Therefore the blood Rite necessitates that they shed most if not all of their clothing for once they join hands they will not part them until the ritual is complete."

For a moment, they all stared at her in perplexity. And then Faramir nodded in comprehension. "They must couple to complete the ritual," he murmured. Arwen nodded smilingly at him.

Meanwhile, Elladan made his way to the hearth. He unsheathed the _mithril_-hilted _sigil_ at his belt and, kneeling, held the blade in the flame to symbolically purify it. Glancing at Elrohir, he smiled at the joy he saw in his twin's eyes. He found himself wishing this part of the night would soon be over that he and Nimeithel might retire to their own chamber. The amused glint in his brother's eyes told him that his thoughts had been read and he turned his gaze back to the fire, his cheeks coloring a little.

When its blade was cleansed, he rose and silently handed the knife to his brother. Elrohir took it, ignoring the heat that travelled from blade to hilt. As he held the tip of the blade to his right palm, he heard the women's soft intake of breath. He glanced up and noted their wide-eyes stares. He smiled at them reassuringly before continuing with the Rite.

He drew the blade diagonally across his palm, barely grimacing at the sting of heat and sharp steel on his flesh. The bright blood welled up from the wound. He passed the knife to Legolas. Unhesitatingly, the archer repeated the motion on his left hand, his slash a match to his binding-mate's. He returned the knife to Elladan.

The two Elves raised and clasped their hands, fingers intertwining, wounds meeting in bloody harmony. Elrohir caught Legolas' gaze and held it.

After a few seconds, a soft silvery glow began to emanate from their clasped hands as their inner elven fires burned more brightly than normal. While the others watched raptly, the diffused light spread out slowly, covering their joined arms, then their torsos, and slowly snaking its way down their slender frames. It was a wondrous sight to behold even for Elladan and Arwen who alone of the company other than Elrohir, had actually witnessed this part of the binding Rites between same-kind Elves before.

Legolas let his breath out, the sting of his wound dissipating slightly with the coming of the silvery light. He stared in awe at his mate's appearance, his beauty increased threefold, bathed as he was in that soft incandescence. He became aware of Elrohir's own appreciative gaze, realized he, too, glowed with the unearthly light. He was distracted, however, when he felt something pass between their palms. Something indefinable, a tingle followed by a slight pull and then a surging push. As if he had taken something from Elrohir and given something in turn.

He heard something in his head. Two pounding beats, faint but growing stronger by the moment. The beats were separate but they seemed to be chasing each other, he was not sure which was which. It came to him that he could hear their heartbeats and that the two were moving to become one as they grew louder and stronger.

The pain in his hand had diminished to a faint throb. He could only hear the paired beats now so close to each other that they were almost...one. He drew in his breath as the pounding drowned out all other sounds and again the sensation of push and pull between their palms, stronger this time, as if their very blood was mingling and being drawn into the other. Soon there was nothing but that single, united heartbeat, the intense tug and surge, the irresistible sensation of owning and being owned.

Legolas could not help feeling some fear and quickly sought assurance in his binding-mate. He anchored himself on the tenderness within the silvered eyes that stared back at him. They had darkened almost to black, their focus upon him undimmed. He realized that Elrohir, too, felt the indescribable connection between them.

After what seemed like ages, the push and pull between their cut palms seemed to lessen. By now they were fully enveloped in the silvery light, looking utterly otherworldly. Elrohir flicked his eyes to his brother for the barest of moments.

Elladan looked at the others and saw that they were enthralled by what they had witnessed this night. They started when he tapped their arms and gestured that it was time to leave. With a last amazed glance at the bound couple, they followed Elladan out of the chamber.

All but oblivious of their departure, Legolas became aware of another part of his being now intent on claiming his full attention. The need to be in complete union with the other on every level was irresistible. The tug was so strong and compelling he knew did not have the strength to resist it. Before long, the push and pull between their palms began to grow again as his body now demanded its own binding.

_I cannot wait! I need to have you now!_

His thoughts flew to the other. The twilight eyes glittered in response.

_Then have me!_

Almost desperately, Legolas pulled Elrohir to the bed and bore him down upon it, mouth seeking the other's in a searing kiss. Their remaining garments were swiftly discarded without their hands ever parting. And then they began a duel that left them both gasping for breath and sentience.

Long after they would remember the sights and sounds of that physical binding. Of sable hair mingling with gold, long limbs entwining and taut muscles straining with and against each other and always the primitive music of ragged breaths, unrestrained moans and gasping cries playing sweetly yet heatedly without cease. And throughout their cut hands clasped tightly, the flow of their blood into each other's veins heightening each and every delicious sensation.

Near the peak of their coupling, Elrohir gazed down upon Legolas as the fair-haired Elf lay beneath him. The prince clearly expected the warrior to take him as evinced by his submissive posture. Only once before had he reversed their roles.

Elrohir recalled Legolas' delight upon discovering that he was the one lover ever to take him. His eyes had gleamed with deep pleasure at the unexpected gift of the twin's first surrender. What Elrohir would give to see that particular light in the prince's eyes again.

He smiled rakishly down at Legolas, relishing the sweet puzzled look that crept into the archer's eyes. Holding the other's gaze, he straddled his mate then levered himself into a position that would permit the latter to breach him.

Legolas' eyes widened. "Aduial, what—?"

"You wanted to have me," Elrohir whispered. "I am granting your desire."

He lowered himself upon the prince, keeping himself relaxed to ease their joining.

Legolas gasped as he was sheathed to the hilt. Sensation surged through his nerves and he bucked upward involuntarily. He stared at the twin. Elrohir simply bent over and kissed him gently. Legolas sighed against his lips.

The prince knew his Elf-knight's pride all too well but he had not thought it would extend to the pleasures of the flesh. When he had dared to take the twin that night in Minas Tirith, he'd been elated to find that Elrohir had never allowed anyone else to dominate him. It had been a matchless gift to be that first, that only one whom the warrior trusted so much that he would yield himself. Now Elrohir was offering him his complete trust once more. It filled Legolas' heart with immeasurable joy.

His breath caught as Elrohir began to move rhythmically above him, repeatedly taking him into the velvet heat of his flesh, urging him to thrust upward in time with his movements. He stared up at the shining Elf-knight. The prince eyed his new spouse with ever increasing affection and lust.

"You are always full of surprises," he said gaspingly as the sensations intensified.

Elrohir smiled. "I should hope so. I would not want you to tire of me."

Legolas gazed at him, his eyes glowing with the light Elrohir had sought to educe with his submission. Of a sudden, the prince reached out with his free hand and grasped his back. With a supple twist of their conjoined bodies, he had the warrior beneath him.

He smiled in turn at the twin, enjoying the sight of the other's raven locks spilling wantonly upon the pristine sheets. "I could never tire of you, Elrohir," he murmured. "You are my life, my very soul. I want you as I've never wanted anyone else. I will always need you."

Elrohir's breath hitched at the open declaration of desire and devotion. "Have me then, Calenlass," he whispered. "Make me yours."

Legolas complied with all alacrity. They moved in perfect synchrony, as if nature had intended them for each other alone. Oblivious of everything but the sound of their wildly beating hearts, the sensual rhythm of their rocking hips, the singeing heat of their deep kisses, they loved each other with total abandon.

Legolas felt it again. That wondrous sensing when Elrohir approached his peak. But no longer was it a faint echo but a soaring melody that sang through his very veins, resonated through his mind and heart and spirit with more power and majesty than the triumphant chorus of a hundred-strong Elven choir. He shuddered in ecstasy as the Elf-knight's rapture continued to spiral and swell and blossom even as he became aware that his feelings, his pleasure, his body's race toward completion was also reverberating through Elrohir's tall frame. His Twilight's countenance betrayed myriad emotions – profound wonder, utter bliss, the welcome loss of control, but most of all the euphoria of experiencing his _and_ his mate's climax. It was an incomparable feeling.

They reached the summit of their joining together, moaning each other's names, wholly engrossed in the beauty and pleasure of the other. This is what it feels like when the loving is shared, Legolas dazedly thought. So strong, so deep, so joyful.

Drained, they suffered to part their bodies reluctantly. Only then did the shining glow about their forms gradually dissipate though a trace of it would remain upon them until morning's first light. Legolas lay his golden head on Elrohir's chest, pleased to feel his lover's smooth flesh beneath his cheek, delighting in his unique scent.

After a space, he lifted his eyes to the Elf-knight, resting his chin on the latter's breast. "This sharing of pleasure," he whispered. "What is it?"

Elrohir softly replied: "'Tis a grace unique to bound Elves. With our spirits joined a channel opens up between us that allows our feelings and even thoughts to flow freely between us in times of intense emotion or passion."

Legolas peered at him wonderingly. "Then 'tis because you bound yourself to me that I could feel your pleasure though you could not feel mine?" he half asked.

"'Twas not a full binding," Elrohir said. "You did not know of it and while the connection was there it only flowed from me to you. Your spirit had not yet joined with mine. Nor had your consent or mine been confirmed by the blood Rite."

"Yet you heard me in your thoughts when I was in peril. Twice."

Elrohir sighed. "That was unlooked for," he admitted. "Even Elladan did not know what to make of it. But then, neither of us really knew what to expect. There has not been another one-sided binding in elven history."

Legolas stared at him. "None? You were the first?"

"And most likely the last," Elrohir smiled wanly.

The prince shook his head in amazement then looked at him once more. "What of marriage between Elf and Elf-maid?" he asked curiously. "There is no Rite to confirm their vows."

"But the pledge to beget children triggers this same grace," Elrohir explained. "And upon the first conception of a child, it strengthens to its fullest."

"Then Nimeithel and Elladan have not yet reached their – their peak?"

At Elrohir's nod, he asked: "Is it always thus? So powerful, so – overwhelming. I did not always feel it when we coupled before."

The warrior shook his head. "It is always present but not always strong enough to be felt. We can control the intensity of it in the same way that we control our passions or our ability to probe other minds. You need only train yourself as you have in all other skills."

Legolas considered this with some awe. "It seems there is much I do not know," he remarked ruefully. "I willfully ignored such lessons, convinced as I was that I would never have need of them. You will have to instruct me in the ways of matrimony, Aduial."

Elrohir grinned. It was then that he recalled their wounds. He held up their clasped hands and said, "Look."

He let go of Legolas' hand. The golden Elf drew in his breath in wonder. Their wounds were healed and all traces of blood upon their skin had disappeared. Not even scars remained. Only the few stains on the sheets bore testimony that they had indeed shed blood earlier.

"We are fully bound, _bereth nîn_"—my spouse—Elrohir softly said.

Legolas sighed happily. "Then my dearest wish has indeed been granted," he murmured thickly.

Slumber insistently reared its beckoning head as it always did when they coupled so vigorously. Just as he was beginning to fall asleep, he suddenly remembered an earlier source of umbrage. He lifted his head to glare mildly at Elrohir. "By the way, why did you bring Arwen to the spring?" he asked a little tartly. "'Tis supposed to be our secret refuge."

Elrohir shook his head. "I did not bring her there," he said. "She followed me when I sought to be alone with my thoughts, hoping to be of help to me. I would never wittingly reveal a place you hold so dear."

Legolas relaxed, feeling relieved and reassured. "I am glad," he said. "'Tis a place I have shared with no one but you, my Elf-knight. I do not desire a sudden intrusion when we may most need our privacy."

Elrohir's lips twitched humorously at the prince's insinuation. "Ai, Legolas, 'tis hard to believe you the same Elf I despaired of ever capturing," he remarked. His expression turned thoughtful.

"What is it?" Legolas asked.

Elrohir smiled a little pensively. "I suddenly remembered Rohan, when we met again before seeking the Paths of the Dead with the Dúnedain." He gazed somberly at the prince. "I was elated to see you, relieved to find you unharmed and glad to know I could protect you in the days to come. And I had thought to tell you how I felt before we faced the darkness of Mordor."

"Why didn't you?" Legolas queried curiously, nuzzling his neck.

"I saw how you regarded Estel. I knew your feelings about him had changed. How could I tell you of my love when you had apparently bestowed yours elsewhere?"

Legolas went still, raised his head and stared at his spouse. "You knew that – even then?" he faltered. "I thought 'twas only Nimeithel who—"

"Who noted your regard for him then? Nay, I knew it when we spoke together at the Hornburg." At Legolas' look of disbelief, Elrohir said: "How could I not have known your heart? You whom I counted as dear to me as Elladan."

At his words, a shadow passed over the fair-haired archer's features. "And you bore this burden all these years. Silently. Valiantly," he said with a catch in his voice. "I once told you that only a fool would let someone like you slip through his fingers yet, like that fool, I nearly did. Arwen was right and I so wrong." He suddenly wrapped his arm tightly around the Elf-knight. Closing his eyes, he pressed his face against the other's shoulder.

"Legolas, what are you talking about?" Elrohir asked frowningly.

"For so long did I turn a blind eye to what you offered me and shied from your love when you gifted me with it. And then compounded my sin when I judged you wanting," the archer said with a shudder. "Yet you had already proven how much stronger you are than anyone I have ever known. Where others would have long faded, you did not succumb until..." He swallowed painfully. "...until I betrayed your trust and treated you so shamefully. Forgive me, my Elrohir," he whispered remorsefully. "You did not deserve what I did to you."

Elrohir was taken aback by the hushed apology on top of the regret-stricken recitation. He had not intended that Legolas should feel guilty about that matter now of all times. But with the plea for forgiveness uttered, there was no recourse but to answer it.

"I knew the risks when I loved you," he softly replied. "Do not apologize for being yourself. I never expected you to change for anyone."

Legolas opened his eyes and looked up at him. The sapphire pools were limpid with contrition.

"But you were not just _anyone_," he almost moaned. "You were my dearest friend, my pledged brother; yet I did not let that stop me from denying you. I hurt you, demeaned your strength and courage, drove you needlessly to despair, forsook you when you needed me most," he berated himself. "That was inexcusable. You might have died had I not finally come to my senses. I should have—"

Elrohir stemmed the flow of words with a lengthy kiss. When he drew back, he placed a finger to the other's lips. "Think no more of that, _melethron nîn_"—my lover—he murmured with a serene smile. "'Tis past and done with."

Comforted by the balming tenderness of his Twilight's smile, the prince nevertheless felt compelled to voice his regrets.

"I am so sorry, Elrohir," he murmured sadly. "I was so blind. I wasted so many years that could have been ours."

"Hush," the Elf-knight gently chided. "'Tis past."

"You are much too noble, _seron vell_"—beloved—the prince said.

"Yet, I, too, must beg forgiveness from you," the Elf-knight sighed.

"For what?" Legolas asked in surprise.

"For being unfaithful to you," Elrohir somberly replied. At Legolas' bewildered reaction, he quietly added: "I broke my vow of fidelity to you when I took Gilwen to my bed."

Legolas' eyes widened. Though a pang of jealousy smote his heart, he swiftly dismissed it as unworthy. "I drove you to it," he objected. "Besides, I did not even know you had bound yourself to me."

"Which is still no excuse for betraying one's spouse."

"I do not consider it a betrayal at all," Legolas declared.

"We have both committed transgressions against each other," Elrohir pointed out gently. "If you do not hold mine against me, why should I hold yours against you? I would rather look to the future now that we are one."

After several moments' reflection, Legolas nodded. Feeling Elrohir's embrace weave closer around him, he snuggled eagerly into his arms. "Never leave me, Aduial," he whispered.

"I will always be with you," the twin softly replied.

A contented sigh escaped the prince's lips. He nestled his head against Elrohir's neck, keeping his arm firmly curled around the darkling Elf's waist. Soon, he was drifting into slumber.

Sated, deliriously happy, Elrohir blessed his dear Greenleaf's temple with a tender kiss. For better or worse, come what may, now and forever, Legolas was finally his.

Glossary:  
ellyn – male Elves  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be 'kinsman' or kinswoman'

_To be continued_…


	95. Calenlass 21 Beyond Compare

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XX: Beyond Compare  
Eryn Lasgalen, _Nárbeleth_ F.A. 22  
The newly bound pair followed Elladan and Nimeithel to Greenwood that autumn. Travelling north by the east-ways, their progress was swifter than usual, which suited Legolas just fine. He knew better than to make his father wait overlong for a visit once he received news of their binding from his daughter and older law-son.

As it was, Thranduil would surely demand an explanation from his favorite son for his precipitate decision. Not that Legolas regretted it in any way. The very recitation of the nuptial vows had given him a sense of serenity and security he'd never known before.

He glanced at his dark-haired spouse. No longer was there any trace of the grief that had near consumed Elrohir to fading. He was as radiant and lusty as the day Legolas first laid eyes on him. Nonetheless, the archer still remembered with sharp resonance how he had almost lost so beloved a soul. Hence his determination to bind to him soonest.

He had not wasted any time setting aright what he had so nearly brought to ruin. No longer would he permit his Elf-knight to suffer needlessly. And he'd finally laid claim to what his heart and spirit had long desired but which he had denied in his stubborn, misguided fear.

They were not alone on the journey. Elladan had sent a small contingent of Imladrin and Greenwood soldiers to augment their escort. There had been reports of orkish activity once more in the Hithaeglir and the older twin did not care to take chances. Daurin, Glorfindel's former second-in-command and now captain of Rivendell's warriors, headed the troop.

As a result, the trip proved not only rapid but uneventful as well. That there were orcs who had thought to ambush them was not in any doubt. But the sight of a goodly number of well-armed warrior Elves proved a most effective deterrent.

Their arrival in Eryn Lasgalen was momentous to say the least. Legolas could not help wincing at the number of Elves that gathered in the clearing before the delved halls to welcome him home and ogle his binding-mate as well. For though Elrohir was as familiar a figure in the woodland realm as his twin, his espousal to Legolas, the first between two _ellyn_ in the royal family itself, drew the curiosity and wonder of most if not all the _Edhil_ of this forest kingdom.

While not all the Elves of Greenwood were fully at ease with the reintroduction of the old ways into their realm, none begrudged those who sought to tread this road their happiness or the freedom to seek it. Therefore, while it would take some time for those who still felt wary of the changes to become wholly comfortable with them, none looked askance at their prince's love for the Elvenlord. They might still approach the ancient path more slowly and cautiously than their counterparts in other elven domains but they no longer shunned it.

His father did not stand on ceremony but swept him into his arms as soon as he dismounted. This was immediately followed by a warm embrace for his newest child-by-law. Only when he had properly welcomed them did the other shoe drop.

"And what were you thinking, espousing yourself without your family in attendance?" Thranduil demanded of his son. "I had not thought I would miss _your_ binding of all my children!"

Legolas meekly replied: "Forgive me, _Ada_, but I did this to keep Elrohir from further suffering." He glanced at his Elf-knight, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "I had kept him waiting far too long as it was."

Thranduil snorted. "Aye, that you did, _ion nîn_"—my son—he chided. "I had wondered if you would ever discover what was right under your nose. Or if you would have the sense to appreciate it."

Legolas turned a bright red at his sire's unexpected response while to his right, Elrohir carefully suppressed a smile though his eyes danced with delight. His mirth was mirrored in his brother and law-sister's faces as they, too, strove to maintain their composure. Yet that was near impossible when beside them, Melthoron and Brethildor were softly chortling at their youngest brother's discomfiture.

"I will admit to blindness," Legolas managed to say as he glared at his older siblings.

"Not to mention willfulness and a determination to stick to your chosen path however absurd it may have been," Thranduil mildly reproached him. "And do not say I did not counsel you for I did have words with you before you departed for Ithilien."

Melthoron looked at his father in surprise. "Why, _Adar_, what did you say to him?"

Thranduil shrugged elegantly. "Only that ignorance of the truth would bring him naught but useless heartache." He regarded Legolas somewhat sternly. "And I was right, was I not? To have one's heart broken after it has known bliss is undeniably painful. But for it to break out of loneliness... that is a greater tragedy."

He softened and cupped his son's chin with affection. "I am only relieved that you will not be alone any longer, Legolas," he quietly said. "I had feared that you would never know the joys of sharing your life with another. With Elrohir."

Elrohir gazed at his law-father with amazement. "Thank you, _Adar_," he softly said.

But Legolas stared at his sire in astonishment. "You desired this?"

"I would not be much of a father if I did not wish only the best for my children, now would I?" the Elven-king pointed out. He suddenly grinned, casting regal dignity aside. "And knowing how stubborn you can be, I warrant only Elrohir would ever be willing to put up with you for eternity!"

This time the others gave in to their mirth while Legolas could only frown at them. But his displeasure was swiftly dispersed when Elrohir put a soothing arm around his waist and said: "I would not have you any other way, Calenlass."

Elladan's muffled groan drew a collective smirk from the family. Thranduil chuckled then inquired of Elrohir: "But how is Arwen and her new babe? Another daughter I understand."

Elrohir smiled. "They are well, _Adar_, though I never expected to deliver my own sister's infant the morning after my binding."

"Well, thank Eru she did not birth in the middle of the ceremony," Legolas said. "'Twas my greatest fear."

"And your king-brother? How is he weathering fathering yet another maid-child?"

This time Elrohir had to guffaw. "Not very well at all," he snickered. "He loves them all dearly but he now dreads having to guard each and every one's virtue."

Thranduil had to smile, remembering when he'd been over-protective of his only daughter. He addressed Legolas. "I have had your quarters enlarged and refurbished now that you are wed. I suggest you and Elrohir take your rest. I expect you to join us for dinner." As an afterthought, he added: "And I expect you to be punctual!"

Legolas colored anew at his father's meaning and shook his head as he watched his sire stride back into his halls, his older sons in tow.

"I cannot quite believe this," he remarked. "I did not expect it at all."

Elladan chuckled. "You do not give your father enough credit then."

It was then that an Elf stepped into the archer's line of vision. He sucked in his breath as he recognized the Rivendell warrior. Enedrion.

Legolas tensed as Enedrion approached Daurin. More than two hundred years ago he had witnessed the painful parting of ways between the two Elves. He wondered how the two had gotten along especially after Daurin married the reason for their parting. Therefore, he was understandably taken aback when Daurin smiled at Enedrion and drew him into his arms in the manner of a lover relieved to be home. And he was even more surprised when the embrace was fervently returned.

The prince stared after the two Elves as they walked away, Daurin's arm around Enedrion's shoulders in an obviously possessive manner. He turned to look incredulously at the twins.

"But he is wed to Almáriel!" he blurted out.

Elrohir shook his head. "Did I not tell you? Daurin and Almáriel had a most spectacular quarrel right after you departed on the Quest."

"'Twas about the most inconsequential matter. We cannot even recall what it was they fought about," added Elladan. "But it was so severe that they broke their betrothal even before we left to join you in Rohan."

"Hence his return to Enedrion," finished Elrohir.

Legolas let his breath out in disbelief. "And is Daurin certain about his choice now?" he asked somewhat skeptically. "I would have thought that Enedrion would be wary of entrusting his heart once more to such fickleness."

Elladan grinned. "Oh, but he was, Legolas. He made Daurin labor long and hard to regain his trust!"

"'Twas truly entertaining to watch Daurin in his toils," Elrohir chuckled. "I doubt there has ever been a more difficult wooing than that which our good captain had to undertake."

"Save yours," Legolas murmured, with a sidelong glance at his mate.

Elrohir smiled. "And like Daurin I have found my reward," he chuckled softly. "Though I count myself the more blessed."

Elladan sighed in mock exasperation as the two shared an all too familiar look. Nimeithel, however, looked patently puzzled. But then she did not know about the incident that had once parted the Imladrin warriors.

"Would you care to explain to me what you are talking about?" she pointedly requested of her husband.

Elladan laughed softly and slid an arm around her waist. "Come, _meleth nîn_, I will tell you the tale," he said. "I wager these two would like some privacy anyway. Never have I known other Elves who would tumble into bed at the slightest excuse!"

"You were no laggard either when you and Nimeithel were newly wed," retorted Legolas, scowling in response to his sister's giggles.

"Ai, but we were still getting to know each other back then," Elladan countered virtuously. "You, on the other hand, already _know_ all that there is to know about each other! What reason have either of you to be so eager?"

"No different from yours, brother," Elrohir shot back. "Newly wedded you may have been but newly bedded, nay! Think you I did not mark your empty bed when we visited Greenwood? I wager you frequented a certain Elf-maiden's chambers instead!"

It was Elladan's and Nimeithel's turn to redden while Legolas stared at them in shock.

"You were bedding my sister all those years!" he bellowed, oblivious of the Elves around them.

"Now, now, _tôr vell_"—dear brother—Nimeithel laughed nervously. "You and Elrohir did much the same thing after all."

"'Twas _not_ the same thing, _thel neth_!"—younger sister!—Legolas fumed.

Elladan rolled his eyes and muttered, "Thank you, _gwanneth_, you've really done it this time!"

"Don't I always?" Elrohir sweetly responded. Taking Legolas by the arm, he said, "The field was plowed long ere anyone suspected, Calenlass."

Grinning, he watched as Nimeithel hastily hustled Elladan away to the relative safety of their bedchamber. He added roguishly, making sure his voice carried to his brother, "Believe it not when they claim temperance now. I warrant they are as eager for bed as we are and on the slightest excuse as well."

Seeing the tips of Elladan's ears turn an improbable shade of red more than eased Legolas' fit of pique. He chuckled then turned to Elrohir, one darkly golden eyebrow raised in question.

"As eager as _we_ are?" he smirked.

Elrohir turned gleaming silver eyes on him. "Always, _melethron_"—m. lover—he huskily informed him. And with a salacious grin, he purposefully led Legolas to their own chamber.

Two evenings later, Elladan came to their room bearing a rather large package. As soon as Elrohir saw it, his eyes lit with elation.

"Is this it?" he asked.

"Aye, it just arrived," Elladan affirmed. "I sent for it as soon as I read your letter."

Legolas watched the brethren curiously as Elladan handed the package over to Elrohir. His eyes widened as the younger twin eased out a thick leather-bound artist's sketchbook; it looked awfully familiar. Elrohir swiftly leafed through the pages then stopped and beamed happily. Glancing up at Legolas, he turned the book around and presented it to the prince.

Legolas caught his breath in wonder. There, still well preserved after three thousand years, was the charcoal sketch Elrohir had drawn of him after that bracing swim in the Bruinen during his first visit to Rivendell. The picture captured the Elf-prince in all his youthful beauty and grace as he idly leaned back against a willow wearing naught but his breeches, his shining hair falling about his neck and shoulders like molten tendrils of gold. The tender attention to detail, the almost worshipful rendering of the image betrayed all too clearly in hindsight what had not been readily apparent at the time. He looked up at Elrohir, his eyes glistening tellingly.

"Even then you loved me," he whispered.

Elrohir nodded. "But even I did not realize it at the time," he murmured.

"I did," Elladan remarked softly. "Though you denied it, _gwanneth_, I suspected your feelings ran deeper than mere affection for a dear friend."

Elrohir smiled at his twin. "Aye, you did. And well do I remember your insinuations at the time."

He looked back at Legolas when the other took his hand. The prince wordlessly pulled him into his arms and held him tight. With a fond grin, Elladan quietly took his leave.

oOoOoOo

The next few days found the newlyweds out in the forest with a hunting party. Thranduil had not been about to let Legolas' espousal go uncelebrated and so a great banquet was to take place in a few days time. The hunters had been tasked to procure game for the feast. Missing the thrill of the chase in the thickly packed green wood, Legolas and Elrohir eagerly joined the party.

Now they were on their way back bearing a plentiful supply of game. The evening would see this bounty gracing the banquet table when the Elvenking feted his youngest son and law-son.

The group stopped for the noonday meal by a sparkling stream. A simple repast of bread and cheese and fruit was passed around and flasks of wine and ale were produced to quench their thirsts. Elrohir glanced up at Legolas as the prince placed a hand on his shoulder. A simple gesture communicated the fair-haired Elf's desire.

Elrohir smiled, rose to his feet and followed him, both slipping away so discreetly few marked their going. Like all lately espoused couples, they oft sought to spend time alone in each other's company. That Legolas frequently initiated such moments was a source of felicity for Elrohir considering all the uncertainty of their tumultuous courtship.

They settled within shouting distance of the other Elves in a small glade near the other end of the stream. They ate quietly, enjoying each other's company even without the benefit of steady conversation. But when they finished their meal, the Elven prince suddenly spoke up.

"Elrohir."

"Hmm?"

The archer took a deep breath. "I have never told you this for in my idiocy I feared the power my admission might give you over me. But after seeing that sketch once more and knowing how you felt even so long ago... I can no longer hide this from you."

Elrohir regarded him gravely. "And what secret is this?"

The look Legolas cast at him took his breath away. It was soft and yielding and utterly loving. "Do you remember our very first time in Mirkwood?" he said.

"How could I forget?" Elrohir smiled. "Every detail of that night is engraved in my memory."

"I would say the same for myself," Legolas replied. "And every other time you loved me that week and all the times thereafter up to this day." He watched a sable eyebrow rise in surprise. "Even the one instance when you nearly took me by force."

"That is one instance I would rather not recall," Elrohir admitted with a grimace.

"Yet even that memory I cherish," the prince said in a low voice. Elrohir started then stared at him in shock. The golden-haired Elf turned rather rosy. He reached for Elrohir's hand. "I told you long ago that I had learned to desire the pleasure you gave me. Do you recall that?" he said, suddenly sounding quite shy. Elrohir nodded, wondering what the archer was leading up to. "That was not quite the whole truth," Legolas murmured. "All these centuries, 'twas not the pleasure that I desired but – but you, Elrohir."

Elrohir went utterly still at his mate's confession. Turning even more scarlet at the Elf-knight's surprisingly impassive countenance, Legolas went on as bravely as he could manage. "I have never known such joy and ecstasy as I have experienced in your arms. I do not know what you do to me. I only know that you alone can undo me even with a look or a word or a simple touch. Not any of the maids I have ever lain with or any _ellon_ that sought my favor has done this to me."

Elrohir smiled faintly. "'Tis flattering that you think thusly of me. But mayhap the comparison is not fair. A maid's loving is vastly different from a male's; more silk than steel you might say. And as for other _ellyn_, you have never lain with another. How can you compare any with me?"

Legolas shook his head. "The loving of a maid is not quite the same, aye, but if 'tis mere skill we speak of, my response should not be much different. Yet it is. And as for other _ellyn_, I desired none other than you. Not even in Lórien did I wish to bed another though their warriors are admittedly among the most beauteous in Middle-earth. I simply did not crave male-flesh unless 'twas yours." He paused, wondering about Elrohir's thoughtful expression. "Only you educed these feelings, Aduial, and I found it frightening. And so I denied it... even to myself."

"And now?"

"Now I long for your presence, your nearness. 'Tis even more frightening to be without your love, without your loving," the archer replied. "I know 'tis late in coming but I would have you know this, _melethron_."

Elrohir fell silent for a space. Legolas wondered if he had offended his mate by admitting he had not fully trusted him. But the twin began to stroke his palm soothingly with his thumb and the gesture eased the prince's anxiety.

At length, Elrohir looked at him, his grey eyes sparkling with a strange light. "I did know it," he said finally. "Not in our earlier encounters, nay; that truly surprises me. But from the moment you responded to my kiss on Mindolluin, I knew then that your body was mine to do with as I pleased even when your heart remained guarded."

It was the archer's turn to stare in surprise. Elrohir smiled slightly. "I knew it but I did not wish your desire to be your sole reason to be with me. I wanted you to come to me in love. And I wanted your love unfettered by doubts or conditions."

Legolas let his breath out slowly. "You always did know me so well."

"Not always," Elrohir gently demurred. "I was not sure if your willingness to lie with me was out of mere lust or unbidden love. I never was certain until you told me."

"Another admission late in coming," Legolas murmured. "I was such a fool."

Elrohir shook his head. "You were afraid. 'Twas but natural for you to hide your feelings from me. The one thing I find fault with is that you did not trust me not to use them against you. I would remind you that I was your friend and brother ere I was your lover."

Legolas nodded and bit his lip. "I will not forget that again," he said. "I only wish I had been wiser. You would not have had to wait so long for me to open my heart to you."

"I did not mind. As long as I had hope, I was willing to wait."

Legolas gazed at him with wonder. Recalling how Elrohir had given up when he _had_ lost hope, he felt a shiver of fear at what had nearly happened followed by a wave of relief at what had eventually come to pass.

"Thank the Powers you did!" he said fervently.

Elrohir found himself on his back on the grass with an armful of doting Elf atop him. He softly laughed as the prince scattered light, warm kisses on his face and neck before his laughter was cut off by a considerably warmer and deeper caress to his lips. The warrior's eyes gleamed as the archer drew slightly away.

"If you do not wish for me to take you here and now, you had best desist, _ernilen_"—my prince—he said warningly.

Legolas chuckled. "We are but a short distance from the others," he said scoffingly. "Even _you_ would not dare."

"If you believe that then you do not know me that well after all," the twin countered, with a squeeze to the princely rear for emphasis.

Legolas stared down at him, suddenly uncertain. Suddenly wary, he hastily pushed up and moved off the Elf-lord to rise to his feet. But as he did so, his leg inadvertently brushed Elrohir's groin. The twin tensed as his body reacted to the contact. Legolas compounded his error by turning away and bending over to pick up their drinking flasks and the remains of their meal. In doing so, he presented a view to the twin that proved all too irresistible.

Uttering a muffled curse, Elrohir threw restraint to the figurative wind and gave in to the exigencies of the moment.

Legolas half yelped as he was hauled back down by the waist. Landing atop Elrohir once more, he was summarily silenced by a devouring kiss. Legolas gasped against the Elf-knight's lips as nimble fingers efficiently and swiftly yanked off his belt, undid clasps, tore at lacings and tugged at loops, all while he was still sprawled over him and their mouths sealed together. How Elrohir accomplished this feat he would never know nor did he have enough coherent thought to figure it out.

He was rolled over, his shirt and tunic flung open and his breeches and boots unceremoniously yanked off before he had time to take more than a couple of ragged breaths. Slipping between his stunned spouse's outspread legs, Elrohir did not bother to take off his own breeches but simply freed himself of their constraint.

Bestowing a wicked smile on the shocked prince, he slipped his hands under the royal bottom and, lifting it purposefully, said: "You should know better than to present such a temptation to me, Calenlass. _This_ fairly begs to be pillaged and I am of no mind to refuse."

The sounds of merriment seemed overly, awfully near as Elrohir made good his threat and took him within earshot of the other hunters. Between frantically stifling his passionate moans and desperately praying no one would stumble upon them, Legolas found himself seriously befuddled and bereft of clear purpose.

Mercifully, his prayers were answered and no one wandered into the vicinity though he only barely managed to strangle a rough cry as the Elf-knight delivered him into breath-stealing rapture. And then he was groaning with delight as he felt the familiar and oh so sensual sensation of Elrohir's heated release spilling deep within him.

After they had both calmed down a bit, Elrohir lay on his back and pulled Legolas into his arms that the prince might rest his head on his shoulder. Legolas pressed closer, for the moment uncaring of his state of dishabille, conscious only of a lovely sense of well-being. Who would have imagined he could enjoy an unexpected joining under such unsecured circumstances and one that had been so peremptorily imposed upon him? The last notion yanked him out of his musings.

He jerked up his tousled head and stared at Elrohir. The Elf-knight looked back at him, a dark eyebrow going up in inquiry.

"You – you've never done this before!" Legolas said in disbelief. "You've always sought my willingness first, even that one time when you near forced me."

A slow smile lit up the warrior's face. "You were not mine before," he simply said.

Legolas drew his breath in sharply. "You did not feel you had the right?"

"I did _not_ have the right," Elrohir averred. "Until you gave me your heart, I could not take more liberties with you than you were willing to allow me." He stroked one flushed cheek with his knuckles then tucked a gold strand behind an ear. "To take you against your desire would have been a flagrant abuse of your trust."

The prince gazed at him with reverent wonder. The depth and purity of Elrohir's love made him feel more blessed than he'd ever thought possible.

"Others would have had no scruples had they thought me vulnerable," he softly said. "But you..." Emotion swept over him in an overwhelming wave and he pulled the Elf-knight tightly to him, letting his affection and joy wash over the other until Elrohir was quite overcome. His grey eyes glittered brightly when the archer released him.

"What is it?" Legolas queried softly.

"I was wondering," Elrohir whispered. "Is it possible for an Elf to die of too much happiness?"

He was rewarded with the sweetest of smiles and the warmest of kisses.

Their departure had largely gone unmarked. Their return did not. It could not be for they radiated so much bliss that they could not fail to attract attention. And the glow of satisfaction and intimacy around them was such that only the most obtuse Elf would not have realized what had passed between them. Surreptitious grins were seen to form on most faces at this patent evidence of the two princes' devotion to each other. Others managed tolerant smiles at the very least.

After all, what Elf could long resist the charm of such deep and heartfelt happiness and contentment?

Glossary:  
Narbeleth - Sindarin for October  
ellon (pl. ellyn) - male Elf  
Edhil - Elves  
Ada, Adar – Papa, Father  
meleth nîn – my love  
gwanneth – younger twin

_To be continued_…

**Nina:** Thanks so much.  
**Author Unknown:** Welcome back and thank you. And, no, this isn't the end just yet.


	96. Calenlass 22 Knight's Reward

_**Calenlass: Heart of a Prince**_  
_by Eressë_

Epilogue: Knight's Reward  
Late into the night, they lounged before the fire in their bedchamber, Elrohir going over various correspondence while Legolas read a book. Still wound up from the festivities of the evening, they had made themselves comfortable on the couch that fronted the hearth. Elrohir sat, half-sprawled in the center of the couch. Legolas lay across, his head against one armrest, long legs propped up on Elrohir's own. Eventually, their bed would beckon and both knew their loving would be long and slow and sweet. But for now they were content to simply relax and enjoy the quiet.

After a while, Legolas closed his book with a snap and sighed. Elrohir glanced up at him from the missive he was reading and noted the wistful expression on the other's face. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head slowly. "Nay, I only recalled a certain night during the Quest," he replied. "'Twas when we were pursuing the Orcs that had taken Merry and Pippin. Aragorn and Gimli sought a few hours of rest while I stood watch." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "I looked up at the night sky and beheld Menelvagor shining brightly above. Yet 'twas not the heavenly swordsman I saw but one closer at hand and infinitely dearer to my heart."

"Estel," Elrohir offered, looking at him curiously, wondering why he saw fit to mention it. "I am not surprised. He is one of the finest swordsmen in Middle-earth."

"Aye, he is," Legolas agreed, "but 'twas not Aragorn I saw that night. 'Twas you, Elrohir." At the Elvenlord's surprise, he said, "Your face, your form, your demeanor in battle. Even then, my heart was already attempting to tell me where it lay but I would not listen. Do you recall what Nimeithel said in Eryn Gael? She was right. I refused to heed my heart and set my sights on Aragorn instead though he was not free. Because he was already pledged to Arwen, _I_ would stay free. I was such a want-wit that I nearly lost you and all chances at happiness."

Elrohir regarded him for a moment then smiled gently. "This seems to be a day for confessions from you, _ernilen_. But as to this last, you were only being yourself and I do not recall vowing to love only the parts of you I desire but even those I could do without," he added with a grin.

Legolas had to return the grin though he sobered quickly. "She was right in yet another matter," he murmured.

"Which matter is this?"

"That I cared not for Aragorn's touch even when I thought myself besotted with him. I hid behind the claim of not wanting to betray Arwen when in truth I did not feel desire for him."

Elrohir cocked a curious eye at him. "Why did you hide behind the claim?"

"Because I could not conceive of loving him and not wanting him as well," Legolas admitted.

"And if you did not want him, then it was likely you did not love him after all," Elrohir finished for him. "And you could not give up what you had decided would be the truth for you." He shook his head, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. "Your sister put it quite aptly. You really can be mule-headed."

Legolas bit his lip. He swung his feet down to the floor and sat up beside Elrohir. "I regret that now," he said softly. "We could have been together long ago."

"Don't, Legolas," Elrohir reproved gently. "What happened then is no longer of the essence. We are together _now_."

"Nevertheless, I would have all doubts put to rest once and for all."

"There is no need. As I promised you, the past was laid to rest when you bound yourself to me before Estel. I have no doubts. Not anymore."

Legolas lifted his eyes to meet the twin's gaze and said quietly, "But _I_ do." At Elrohir's startled reaction, he continued, "Not about my love for you but about my worth. You always treat me like a treasure worth fighting for. As if I were some precious heirloom that you would protect with your very life. Yet 'tis you who is the treasure and I do not know if I deserve you. You offered me your love, endured my thickheaded folly, and led me patiently to this joy. I – I am not certain if I am worthy of you, Elrohir."

Elrohir pulled him into his arms, let the prince lean his head on his shoulder. "You've always been worthy," he whispered. "Else I could not have remained steadfast. I desire no other, Calenlass. Only you."

His words were like a benediction to the archer. Legolas felt his spirit respond to the other's with bliss and belonging. Secure in the Elvenlord's embrace, the woodland prince snuggled even closer, closed his eyes and happily breathed in his Elf-knight's singular scent.

"I love you so much," he murmured. "_Garo ind nîn, Aduial, si a an-uir_."

Have my heart, Twilight, now and forever.

Elrohir smiled at the heartfelt avowal. Eternity could be wearying to the elven soul unless one had a love to share the never-ending years with. He was overwhelmed with gratitude to the Powers for opening his Legolas' heart to him. Would that the light of the Valar shine upon them and their love always.

Glossary:  
Menelvagor - Sindarin for the constellation of Orion  
ernilen – my prince

The End

**Part 22:** Storm Kissed – A sudden squall hits Rivendell and leads Elrohir and Legolas down memory lane. Rating: T

**LilShin:** Thank you so much. I'm glad you're enjoying this series. And I'm happy you like Legolas/Elrohir - it seems they've become my signature pairing.  
**Nina:** Thanks! I'm pleased you like my depiction of Thranduil. I think of him as a warm and loving father, too, and simply can't picture him as an abusive character or a villain.


	97. Interlude: Storm Kissed

**Summary:** A sudden squall hits Rivendell and leads Elrohir and Legolas down memory lane.

**Characters:** Legolas/Elrohir, Elladan/OFC

**Rating:** T for mild sexual content

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Interlude: Storm Kissed**_  
_by Eressë_

Imladris, _Úrimë _F.A. 23  
Legolas closed the balcony doors firmly to shut out the pelting rain. The summer storm that had hit the vale was of the noisy variety with crashing thunder, wailing winds and roaring rain. With a grimace the Wood-elf wished not for the last time that he was under the sheltering canopy of Greenwood. At least for the duration of this cacophonous downpour.

After spending all of the past winter and the first half of the year in Eryn Lasgalen, he and Elrohir had finally come to Rivendell in late summer. They had decided to pass the rest of the year in the valley before heading back south come next spring. They were not all that eager to return to Gondor. Not just yet.

It was not that life would be onerous for them once they set foot once more in Gondor. A month after Elrohir returned to Minas Tirith following his binding to Legolas, Aragorn had sprung an unexpected surprise on him. With one masterstroke, his king-brother had freed them both of the burden of frequent separations.

Understanding and sympathizing with the Elf-knight's yearning to be close to his binding-mate, Aragorn had cannily informed his court that Elrohir's alarming brush with illness just the previous year had been due to prolonged periods of living apart from his kindred. Six months a year of residing amongst mortals for more than two decades, with only the sporadic company of the Ithilien Elves to sustain his spirit, had finally taken its toll on him, the king had declared. And with such believable seriousness that Elrohir had been hard-pressed not to ruin everything with an untimely guffaw. It had taken a return to Imladris and the daily balm of elven companionship to restore him to full health, Aragorn had continued with spurious solemnity. Obviously, these past twenty years of service to Gondor had exacted a steep price; a price he was not willing to pay if it meant risking the well being of his Elf-brother.

To Elrohir's eternal gratitude, Aragorn had firmly decreed that he was to make his home amongst the Elves of Eryn Gael for the better part of his half-year stays in Gondor. It would be a simple matter to summon him to Minas Tirith should the need arise considering the proximity of Ithilien to the City of the Kings. And as for Eldarion's continued tutelage under his uncle, the king saw no reason why his son could not make regular visits to the elven colony and take his lessons there. Indeed, he had been remiss in educating his heir in the ways and traditions of his mother's kindred. Thank Eru his Elf-uncle had seen to that all these years.

Of course, Faramir, Steward of Gondor, knew the true reason behind the decree; after all, he had actually helped Aragorn draft it. All the others, even the most knowledgeable, knew little of the deeper nuances of elven nature and could not credibly question Aragorn's guileful declaration. All that is save for Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth who probably suspected something of the truth. But he had always been a staunch defender of Legolas and his people due to his own elven ancestry. Whatever he may have thought of such an unlikely story he kept to himself and lauded his king's decision as heartily as Faramir did. With two such powerful _and_ learned allies supporting Elessar's contention, any lingering doubts as to its veracity were swiftly quashed.

It was a most wondrous gift from the king to his foster-brother and new kinsman. The decree and the manner in which it had been broached and decided upon not only allowed Elrohir to reside with Legolas, but also minimized speculation about their closeness. It was Elessar who desired this. His foster-brother would obey him as was his duty. Legolas would always cherish the day his Elf-knight came back to Eryn Gael not merely to visit him but to move in with him for good.

No, if they were reluctant to return so soon to Gondor, it was not because they would be forced apart but simply because they were enjoying this all too rare respite from the cares their positions as warrior princes entailed. They would never forsake their duties to their lands and people but an occasional idyllic break was not to be scorned either.

Legolas winced a little as one particularly loud thunderclap caused considerable distress to his sensitive ears. A chuckle from behind drew his attention.

"Don't tell me you are still afraid of storms," Elrohir remarked. The darkling Elf had been reading in bed. He now paused in his perusal of a book on Hobbit lore to regard his mate with amusement.

Legolas grinned and shook his head. "Nay, I have gotten quite used to them. But my ears still find the noise uncomfortable, that is all."

Elrohir smirked. "For a moment I thought I would have to hold you through the night as I did that time. Elladan still thinks it a good jest that a grown Elf like yourself should have been so frightened of a mere storm."

Legolas gave him a mild glare even as he colored. That had been an embarrassing incident. Thank the Powers the twins had never seen fit to punish him for anything by telling his brothers about it. He would never have lived it down.

As he recalled that other wild and stormy night, another memory came back to him. He glanced at Elrohir who had resumed his reading. A thought suddenly came to him and he frowned suspiciously. He walked to the bed and sat down beside the other Elf.

"Elrohir?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you fetch Elladan that night?"

Elrohir looked up in surprise. "To help me comfort you, of course," he answered. "Never had I seen such a scared Elf as you were that eve."

Legolas snorted disbelievingly. "You could have comforted me by yourself. Indeed, I remember you were doing very well. _At first_." He grinned as the warrior stiffened and glanced at him warily. "What happened, Aduial? Why did you suddenly insist that Elladan join us?"

Elrohir tried to shrug his sudden unease off nonchalantly though his slightly burning cheeks betrayed him. "I told you; I thought you would feel more secure if we were both there for you."

"But I was already secure," Legolas pointed out. "How much more secure could I have gotten?" He suddenly slipped under the covers, plucked the book out of the startled Elf-knight's hands and slid up against him. "As I recall, you only thought of getting your brother when I did _this_."

With that, he draped himself over Elrohir in virtually the same manner he had done all those centuries ago. Chest-to-chest, lean hips and groins pressed together, long legs entangled under the blanket. He half-buried his face in the crook of the warrior's neck.

Elrohir drew in his breath to calm his suddenly racing heart. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, trying to sound indignant and only managing to sound quite perturbed.

A husky chuckle answered his query making it more difficult for him to relax. "I am wondering what spurred you into summoning Elladan that night."

After a while, Elrohir sighed resignedly. "If you must know, I was sorely tempted to bed you," he muttered grudgingly.

Legolas lifted his head, his eyes alight with laughter. "Really? Well, what stopped you?" he grinned. "You were never known for restraint, _roch vreg_."—wild stallion.

The warrior glared at him. "Need you ask? You were my best friend! You trusted me. How could you think that I would have done such a thing to you?"

Legolas smirked. "How very noble you were then," he commented. "You were less patient when you cornered me in Ithilien."

Elrohir colored up once more. "I was tired of waiting," he reminded his prince.

With a snicker, Legolas buried his face once more in Elrohir's neck and nuzzled the pale column, pausing here and then to nip at smooth, enticingly scented skin.

"Legolas?" Elrohir half rasped as his body defiantly took on a life of its own, particularly one spot in the vicinity of his nether regions. "What do you think you're doing _now_?"

"I would just like to know what you would have done if Elladan had not joined us," came the muffled reply.

Elrohir went still though his blood continued to heat up. He turned his head and looked warningly at the fair archer. "Be careful of what you wish for," he murmured. "You just might get it."

"Is that a threat?" Legolas challenged tauntingly, lifting his slightly tousled head.

Elrohir looked up at him, eyes darkening. His hand suddenly shot out to grasp the prince at the nape and pull his head down so that their mouths collided in a demanding kiss.

Legolas gasped against Elrohir's lips. With an effort, he pulled away, his eyes dancing mischievously. "I think you have answered my question," he teased. "You can return to your book now."

"I think not," Elrohir growled and abruptly rolled them both over so that he was now on top. "You wanted to know what I would have done and, by Elbereth, I will show you!"

He silenced the golden Elf with another kiss, this one considerably less gentle and infinitely more passionate. Startled by the sudden change in circumstances, Legolas jerked his mouth away and pushed at the dark-haired Elf.

"You have already shown me! Now get off me!'

A wicked grin creased Elrohir's sinuous lips to match the wicked gleam in his dusky eyes. "I have not shown you anything yet," he drawled.

He dug his fingers into Legolas' sides. The prince found himself helplessly laughing under the unexpected onslaught. He vainly tried to wriggle away.

"S-stop! Elrohir, stop it! All r-right, you win!"

Elrohir unhurriedly shifted from his playful assault upon his prince to divesting him of his clothes instead. Hands roamed with lustful intent and lips wrought more than just telling marks on ivory skin. Laughter evolved into gasps, gasps turned into shuddery breaths, which finally culminated in pregnant silences punctuated increasingly by sounds not fit for Elflings' ears or, for that matter, the ears of any creature below the age of majority.

It so happened that Elladan and Nimeithel were passing the pair's door at the moment. The older twin, nearer to the door than his wife, paused when he heard the sounds coming from inside of his brother's room. The memory of that other stormy evening of long ago recalled itself to him and he suddenly snickered. Well, this night was certainly going to end in a different manner!

"Why do you laugh?" his wife asked, puzzled.

"I just remembered a night like this many years ago," he replied. "_My_ brother had a most _uplifting_ experience thanks to _your_ brother."

"Oh? Pray tell, what happened that time?"

She gasped when her husband swooped down and gave her a resounding and patently unchaste kiss. She blushed deeply when he drew away, slate blue eyes covetous.

"I – what brought that on?" Nimeithel shakily asked. When Elladan's eyes only darkened further, her own widened in comprehension and she said, "What happened to _them_ then that has so quickly turned _your_ mood now?"

He grinned down at her. "'Tis an interesting tale," he cooed, eyes gleaming as wickedly as his twin's had done just minutes earlier. "I think 'tis best told in a nice warm bed. Or mayhap I should show you as well!"

On that impish note, he scooped his squealing wife into his arms and swiftly bore her away to the privacy of their own bedchamber.

The following morning dawned dark and dank, the storm still clinging by its figurative fingertips. With an exasperated sigh, the Last Homely House's efficient housekeeper, Iorwen, had her staff clear the main dining table in the hall of its untouched contents. Ai, what did she expect of the brethren? After three thousand years she should not be surprised. Certain appetites would always take precedence with those two. Particularly now when both had such delectable victuals to feast on!

Glossary:  
Úrimë - Quenya for August

The End

**Part 23:** Bereth: To Have and To Hold – Legolas and Elrohir's love is beset from within by misunderstandings and from without by an evil from an age long past. Rating: M


	98. Bereth: To Have and To Hold 1 Portents

**Summary:** Legolas and Elrohir's love is beset from within by misunderstandings and from without by an evil from an age long past.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** This story takes place some ten years after the events narrated in _Calenlass: Heart of a Prince_. I was in an experimental mood when I wrote this part so expect it to differ somewhat in style and content from the previous stories, rooted as it is in science fiction rather than fantasy. Inspiration for certain parts came from _The Silmarillion_.

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Prologue: Portents  
Eryn Lasgalen, _hrîvë_ F.A. 32  
Winter this year in the lands east of the Misty Mountains seemed at once mild and harsh at the same time. Snow and ice had failed to materialize leaving paths clear and treetops unburdened yet the ground was frozen solid and the carcasses of birds and beasts littered the forest, slain by the unforgiving cold of many a cruel night. It was strange weather considering that the peaks and slopes of the Misty Mountains were crowned in frost and blanketed with snow. And travelers coming over the high passes before they closed reported the west to be steadily slipping into the usual pristine embrace of the season.

But despite the oddities of the situation, certain routines were not in the least disrupted as proven by the party of Elven rangers that made its stealthy way along the wending tracks of the forest. They hailed from the Woodland Realm of Northern Eryn Lasgalen. That they were out on patrol in such bone-chilling weather was testament not only to the Elves' unrelenting devotion to keeping their realm safe and secure but to the exigencies spawned by the said weather.

The lack of snow and ice had encouraged the orcs that infested the deeps of Hithaeglir and the Ered Mithrin to come out of their usual winter's hiding and raid the settlements at the feet of the mountains. Not content with that, they had dared to break Greenwood's borders in their never ending need to inflict as much mayhem as they could on its denizens, whether Elven or otherwise. The Silvan Elves, Beornings and Woodmen had retaliated in kind, decimating the invading goblins with equal ferocity and even greater efficiency.

Distrustful of the orcs' retreat to their mountain strongholds, the Wood-elves now kept constant patrol of their borders lest any treacherous groups should attempt to re-enter the forest.

However that was not the only reason they combed the woods so assiduously.

This particular troop of rangers had proceeded to the northern reaches of the Wood of Greenleaves, drawn by some vague but nevertheless palpable evil. Their affinity with their forest home enabled them to understand the whispers of the trees and plants and grass and those whispers had alluded to peril in the north. The fairly recent strange occurrences in these environs lent credence to the trees' rustling warnings.

The northern bounds had long known no dangers beyond the usual incursions of orcs and brigands and the occasional blundering troll. But in the last quarter century or so, there had been a disturbing number of unexplained disappearances in this neck of the green wood. The first victims had been from the human caravans that infrequently plied the routes on the outskirts of the forest. In all cases, it was the women who vanished; the men were always slain without exception. None survived to tell the tale of the women's fates. It was assumed they had been abducted but there was no knowing who had done so or why. No demand for ransom ever came forth nor was there any evidence of enforced servitude anywhere amongst the inhabited regions of the north. The women were simply never heard from again.

Thranduil, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, had been troubled by such tidings but even with the aid of the Beornings and Woodmen and the collusion of neighboring Dale and Esgaroth, the mystery had remained unsolved. But in the first years of the past decade, the number of women who disappeared had suddenly escalated and, even more alarming to the Elves, had begun to include their own.

With the downfall of Sauron and the destruction of his fortress of Dol Guldur in the southern reach of the former Mirkwood, the caution of all the forest dwellers had lessened. After the elimination of the great spiders that had once infested the dark woods, men had started to build colonies in the south of the forest though they were careful not to trespass upon the territory of the Elves of East Lórien. Though Celeborn had since forsaken that realm in favor of his grandsons' company in Imladris, many of his people stayed on, awaiting only his summons to join him when at last he should pass West.

While men explored the south, the Elves of the woodland kingdom had tamed the north. There were many flourishing, far-flung colonies scattered in the area. It was from the most remote of these settlements that the Elf-women had been taken. Again the disappearances had followed the previous pattern. The females had been taken, the rest slain to seal their lips forever.

Thranduil had promptly recalled his people, moving them back to the more secure regions of his realm. As a result, there had been no further incidents involving the Wood-elves but human women continued to vanish here and there. Ever mindful of his duty to those within his area of responsibility, seeking to prevent deeper incursions of whatever it was that had bedeviled the colonies and mayhap discover its nature, the Elvenking had decreed that the northern reaches would be as thoroughly patrolled as the west.

The inexplicable disappearances had finally ceased and there had been no new reported cases for three years now. But the Elves refused to relax their vigilance and continued to keep a close watch on the northern bounds of the wood.

Now the most recent patrol scoured the wood, drawn by a sense of something having occurred though they had not the slightest notion what that could be. It was just as they were set to give up and turn back that two of their number finally found what they sought.

There, nearly hidden by the gnarled roots of a tree, lay a man or rather the body of one. A little further off they found two more bodies in much the same state as the first.

With mingled horror and awe, one scout raced back to the troop's captain and made his report. The captain hastened to the tangled grove in which the rangers had made their gruesome discovery.

He stood tall and proud this Elven warrior; was slender of frame yet formidable of form. Beautiful as sunlight with his golden hair, bright blue eyes and ivory skin, he seemed unsuited for the role demanded of him. Yet his appearance belied his peerless skill whether in archery or outright battle.

Legolas, youngest prince of the woodland kingdom, stared down at the corpses. He grimaced in revulsion and not a little perturbation as he wondered who or what in Arda could have done this. And how.

Glossary:  
bereth - spouse  
hrîvë - Sindarin for winter

_To be continued_…


	99. Bereth 2 Troubling Matters

**AN:** As I mentioned earlier (and some of you have already noted), this part of the series is rather different in tone and theme from its predecessors. Nonetheless, I hope you'll still give it a go. And in any case, thank you one and all for following this story thus far.

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I: Troubling Matters  
Elladan gently eased his wife onto one of the benches in the main dining hall of the woodland realm's royal pavilion. In her eleventh month of pregnancy, Nimeithel was no longer the lissome Elf whose regal grace equaled that of the Queen of Gondor. But she was still jaw-droppingly beauteous as evinced by her husband's inability to take his eyes _or_ hands off her for long.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked when she squirmed a little before settling down at last.

"Enough to have breakfast," she replied with a smirk. "I seem to be a little sore."

Elladan blushed at the implication of her remark. "I am sorry," he murmured. "I did not mean to overdo it last night."

Nimeithel swallowed a giggle at his discomfiture. "As to that, I would rather you always overdid it than hear that you've spent yourself in some wench's bed."

The Elvenlord bristled. "You know I care nothing for the charms of others," he retorted reprovingly. Elfkind did not take kindly to infidelity or suggestions of it even in jest.

Nimeithel's eyes widened a little, realizing the impropriety of her words. That she had uttered them rather than Elladan made them a little less offensive but that did not change the fact that they should not have been uttered at all in the first place.

"Forgive me, _melethen_"—my love—she cooed contritely. "I fear 'tis my condition that loosens my tongue. I know you would never stray from me, which is why I bear the brunt of your attention even this close to birthing."

The blush returned as umbrage quickly seeped away. Smiling entreatingly, the princess sneaked a hand beneath the long table to squeeze one hard thigh. Elladan promptly gave her a look that promised more of his attention at the first opportunity possible.

Such passion as they shared was uncommon even among the Elves, the most passionate of all Arda's sentient races. It was mostly due to Elladan's considerable carnal appetite, a trait he had in common with his twin brother, Elrohir. It was the reason Nimeithel had delayed conceiving for so long, this knowledge that her husband would feel deprived when she reached the end of gestation and during the recovery period after giving birth.

Many had argued that the wait would not be lengthy; she was an Elf, for Elbereth's sake, she would heal swiftly by mortal standards. But Nimeithel knew her Elladan; knew he would chafe at the wait, no matter how brief. Even now, huge as she was with child, he still took her nearly every night, as if preparing for the famine that was to follow. That they now knew the full measure of shared rapture brought on by this first conception deepened his hunger for her even further. There were times she wondered what it would be like once she recovered from birthing and just as swiftly would put aside the thought when it reduced her to tremor-inducing fits of equal parts anticipation and apprehension.

Her imminent birthing was the reason they had come to Eryn Lasgalen. Although Nimeithel had stoutly asserted that she did not mind giving birth in Rivendell, Elladan knew she would be much more at ease in the company of her kin. There was Brethildor's wife to see to her needs and her mother's female cousins as well. And so, he had brought her to her father's realm for the winter; she was due to have their babe in February.

They were midway through their meal when Elrohir walked in, looking rather distracted. Elladan gestured to his twin to join them. Murmuring greetings, Elrohir kissed his law-sister on the cheek and sat across from the couple.

He and Legolas had come north as well, taking advantage of a long bout of peace in Ithilien. With the southern orcs beaten into submission for a spell, the fair province was quiet and secure at the moment. Missing the company of their respective families they had asked leave of Elessar and arrived in the woodland kingdom soon after Elladan and Nimeithel.

Signaling to a servant to bring food for the Elf-lord, Nimeithel said, "I trust you slept well last night, _gwanur_?"

Before Elrohir could reply, Elladan snorted amusedly and drawled, "I doubt he or Legolas got any sleep at all, _melethril_. They were at it long before we retired for the night and I would not be surprised if they were still at it long after we fell asleep."

Elrohir scowled at his twin's remark and kicked him beneath the table. Elladan yelped and quickly pulled back his legs but the mischievous grin did not leave his face.

Not that his words were uncalled for. While many had commented on the lustful nature of his relationship with Nimeithel, no one could deny that Elrohir and Legolas surpassed them by far. Nimeithel was wont to say that such a state of affairs was not surprising given that theirs was a mating between two mettlesome warriors of concupiscence to match.

"I slept quite well, _gwanur_," Elrohir pointedly addressed Nimeithel, sparing Elladan the mildest of glares. "Contrary to what my dear brother may suggest."

Nimeithel giggled, enjoying as always the interplay between the twins. They fell silent for a while when a servant brought Elrohir's breakfast. Once the Elf walked away, Elladan idly asked, "Where is Legolas?"

The smile suddenly faded from the Elf-knight's face. "I was hoping you could tell me," he admitted softly. "He was gone when I woke up."

Elladan and Nimeithel glanced at each other. "Have you searched for him?" Nimeithel asked cautiously.

Elrohir nodded pensively. "No one in the palace seems to know where he is."

The princess bit her lip, feeling a little guilty on behalf of her wayward brother.

Elrohir sighed. "I just wish he left me word of his plans whatever they were," he said. "Even a note would have sufficed."

"I wish we could help you, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—Elladan responded. "But Legolas did not see fit to speak to us either this morn. We have no idea where he might be."

It so happened the servant had returned to their table with a hot-from-the-oven loaf of bread. Overhearing Elladan's words, he respectfully addressed Elrohir.

"_Hir nîn_, Prince Legolas left with the border patrol just before dawn," he offered diffidently, embarrassed at being the one to inform the Elf-lord of his own mate's whereabouts. The utter stillness of Elrohir's countenance upon being so informed unnerved him greatly. It was apparent he had not thought to inquire about the prince at the barracks but, after all, who would?

"Thank you," the twin finally said. The servant hurried away.

Elrohir stared unseeingly at his food, appetite gone. Then without a word, he rose and left the dining hall. Elladan and Nimeithel stared after him then looked at each other.

"How could Legolas do this to him?" the princess murmured, shamed for her brother.

"He has been doing it for a long time now, _herves_"—wife—Elladan said curtly. "'Tis only a matter of time before Elrohir loses his patience. I fear the outcome when he does."

Nimeithel felt her husband's pain for his brother. She knew full well just how deep the rapport between the twins truly was. Even at far distances, they could oft sense the other's well-being or lack thereof. Their respective espousals had naturally separated them to a certain extent as they turned their attentions and affections to their respective binding-mates. But the closeness they had always shared never vanished and would immediately rekindle when they were together.

Placing an understanding hand over Elladan's, she softly said, "Go to him, my heart. He needs you now."

Casting a grateful smile at her, Elladan rose, kissed her gently and followed in his brother's wake.

He found him wandering aimlessly in the gardens behind the royal pavilion. Wordlessly, he joined his twin and curled a comforting arm around his shoulders. Such was their accord that the simple gesture was enough to soothe Elrohir's heart. Nevertheless, Elladan felt compelled to voice his worries. It was time the younger twin confided his troubles in him.

Elladan regarded him with concern. "_Muindor_, are you happy with Legolas?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" Elrohir briefly replied.

"Really, Elrohir, you cannot deny that there is something amiss between the two of you," Elladan said musingly. "From Eryn Gael to Imladris and Greenwood, no Elf with eyes has failed to see that Legolas is not as solicitous of you as others are of their spouses – including his own sister."

"You can hardly ask him to be as tender as Nimeithel," Elrohir answered somewhat defensively. "He is a warrior bound to a fellow _ellon_."—male Elf.

Elladan snorted. "As is Glorfindel yet our valiant Balrog slayer was ever as tender with Erestor as any loving wife with her husband." When Elrohir kept silent, he pressed on. "He refuses to let you cherish him, chafes when you seek to protect him, goes off without telling you of his intentions or whereabouts." Elladan hesitated. "He behaves as if you are but casual lovers, not binding-mates."

"Think you I do not know that?" Elrohir said in a low, hushed voice.

"Then why do you endure it?" Elladan demanded. "You have every right to question his manner, Elrohir. His demeanor is not normal for one who is bound. 'Tis not the way of Elfkind."

"One cannot force tenderness from another," Elrohir said. "What would it accomplish for me to point out his failings? We would only quarrel needlessly."

"Needlessly? You are no ignorant Elfling, _tôren_"—my brother—Elladan chided. "You know as well as I that it should not have to be forced from him, that a binding elicits such feelings effortlessly. Or it should. That he does not seem to feel the pull begs a question. What if your binding is not—?"

"Do not say it!" Elrohir said sharply, knowing as always what his twin sought to express. "'Tis agonizing enough just thinking about it. I do not need to have you speak of it in the full light of day."

"I am sorry," Elladan said quietly. "I only want to help."

"I know, _gwaniaur_."—older twin.

"You have to consider the consequences of an – error in his decision. You cannot continue thusly for all eternity."

"That I know, too." Elrohir closed his eyes. "Yet it matters not."

"You love him come what may."

"My heart is his."

"Even if he does not cherish it as you deserve?"

"Even if he should break it, aye, it is his."

Elladan frowned in frustration. "Elrohir—"

"Years ago, he gave me _his_ heart because he trusted me to keep it safe," Elrohir quietly elucidated. "I never sought the same from him. Why should I now take this against him? How can I?"

Elladan stared at him, torn between bemusement and amazement. "'Tis your right, Elrohir," he insisted.

"Leave it be, Elladan, leave it be," the younger twin pleaded.

Elladan sighed, shaking his head. "Ai, _gwanneth_, why is your path so oft strewn with obstacles?"

The sad smile of his brother nearly broke his heart. "Mayhap the Valar seek to test my strength in following such a path."

"And are you indeed strong enough?"

"I have to be. For both of us."

"Him again." When his twin said nothing, Elladan pursed his lips. "I do not know whether to admire you or pity you," he admitted.

"You can do both," Elrohir softly suggested. "Elbereth knows I need all the succor I can get."

Elladan let the argument rest though his heart beat with resentment against the friend who made his brother so unhappy. They walked on in silence, each pondering weighty thoughts.

Elrohir felt his fears rise up anew. His twin had broached a subject he had resisted opening because of its repercussions.

In the first year or so after their binding in Eryn Gael, Legolas had been as attentive a spouse as could be desired. Elrohir could not have asked for more and indeed would have been content with less. It was enough that he had finally gained what he had sought for centuries uncounted. But while the years had continued to progress, their relationship, strangely enough, had not. Legolas had changed and Elrohir had no idea why.

The Greenwood prince had always been of a fiercely independent bent, unwilling to own himself beholden to anyone in any way. His deep friendship with the twins had been the one exception that had deviated from his usual pattern of close but controlled relationships. Only with Elrond's sons had he admitted to dependency on another. Only with them had he willingly reined in his inherent wildness of spirit.

At only one other time had he relied as much on others and that was during the War of the Ring when singular circumstances had demanded singular behavior. But that had been but a brief and never-repeated interlude in his long warrior's life.

Elrohir loved his wild spirit, did not desire to purge him of that admirable independence. But he had not expected the archer to embrace his old ways so much as to actually exclude him increasingly from matters outside of their binding-bed.

How often had Legolas gone off on some errand or activity with nary a word to him? This morning's embarrassment was but one in a long line of incidents that had Elves on both ends of the Reunited Kingdom wondering about them. He did not expect the prince to ask for his permission; that was perfectly absurd. But he did expect to be informed of his own spouse's plans or whereabouts if only out of courtesy and concern.

Then there was the all too discernable lack of consideration one expected of a bound Elf. Legolas seldom if ever displayed such tenderness for him yet apparently did not mind being on the receiving end of the same behavior. But let Elrohir exhibit even the minutest amount of protectiveness or possessiveness and at once the prince took umbrage at what he called unwarranted attentions from the Elf-knight.

Another difficulty to contend with was the archer's increasingly short temper. It was something Elrohir found perplexing. Legolas had always been the sweetest-tempered of Thranduil's sons yet in recent years he had grown almost as snappish and impatient as his oldest brother, Melthoron, had been once upon a time.

He could not pinpoint the exact moment when the changes began. But he could remember when he'd become aware of it. Painfully aware.

A little less than three years ago, he'd gone to Rivendell for a half year of duty at Elladan's side. Legolas had not been able to travel north with him and so they'd been forced apart for those six months, sustained only by the messages they'd sent each other. He'd noticed the almost desperate tone of Legolas' letters by the latter half of his sojourn in the vale. He'd wondered at it for the archer had not been so needful of his presence during past separations. They had disturbed him enough to compel him to return to Gondor sooner than expected.

His reunion with the prince was both exhilarating and perturbing. He could still recall the turbulence of that meeting. Legolas had practically dragged him into their chamber, abruptly cutting off the gracious greetings his people had been extending to the Elf-knight. Before Elrohir had even had the chance to catch his breath at such haste, the Wood-elf all but attacked him.

He'd never known Legolas to be so voracious before. Their raiment did not survive the fury of the prince's onslaught and, for the longest while, Elrohir had thought, neither would his lucidity. For Legolas had taken him with almost frightening ferocity. Even for one as experienced as the warrior, the Wood-elf's need-fed urgency had been unprecedented and overwhelming. And he'd seen something in Legolas' eyes that had troubled him even as he came to explosive release beneath his spouse's wondrous form. Desire unfettered. Pure, undiluted lust. Far from the intensely loving if understandably lubricious welcomes of years past.

Afterwards, as they lay amidst the tangled sheets and shredded remains of their clothing, he'd sought to discover what had driven his binding-mate so hardily. But Legolas had dismissed the matter and only said he'd been badly in need of release. Then to add to Elrohir's disconcertment, he'd behaved as if nothing untoward had occurred between them and for the rest of the day accorded him nothing more than cool, almost distant affection.

Only to bed him once more that very night with that same curious needfulness and distressing lack of emotional closeness. And afterwards, left him feeling as if he'd been... used. That had been the exact moment when Elrohir had realized that their relationship had begun to change even beforehand but had been so slow and subtle in the changing that he had not fully noticed its encroachment.

It had been there for some time – the erosion of the archer's tender, caring demeanor towards his Elf-knight. Elrohir had deemed it but the effects of his sometimes burdensome responsibilities as the Elf-lord of Eryn Gael. He'd known that same feeling of being trapped by fate, duty and honor and how it could wear down one's forbearance. And so he'd exerted more effort to soothe his spouse's occasionally beleaguered spirit.

But matters only worsened. Soon after his latest return, he'd noticed how even the most basic displays of concern and affection due a binding-mate had diminished considerably where Legolas was concerned.

He'd tried to get to the bottom of the prince's reticence only to be met with anger and indignation. After several fruitless, almost shockingly vitriolic quarrels over this, he'd given up and decided to wait out Legolas' unreasonable behavior. And wait he had. For two whole years punctuated by occasional hurtful spats. Spats brought about by any attempt on his part to resolve the problem. And in all that time, he'd felt the steady loss of the closeness they'd once shared even as friends and pledged brothers. All the way to the present.

Only in their bed did Elrohir still derive any open affection from him yet even there…

He'd been the teacher to Legolas' student being the more experienced in intimacy between male-kind. But in matters of dominance, he had no preference within their binding so long as it was with Legolas that he shared his body. It was not the yielding to his mate that he minded, which of late he'd had to do more and more, but that Legolas demanded it of him so peremptorily.

That troubled him greatly. There were times when he was no longer certain whether Legolas took him out of love – or to assert his primacy over him. The latter seemed more in keeping with the archer's escalating willful demeanor. The one thing, the only thing that consoled Elrohir was an odd feeling that Legolas was not doing it on purpose. The archer seemed unaware of his unbecoming manner and would even apologize when he went too far. That is, if someone made him cognizant of going too far.

Elrohir sighed inwardly as he came back to the present. He could not deny the truth of his brother's comments. Elladan was right. Their binding should have triggered the age-old impulses in both of them. He felt them strongly in himself.

The need to own and be owned. The desire to protect and cherish and seek naught but the pleasure and happiness of one's binding-mate. The ability to depend wholly on the other and offer it in turn without shame or hesitation. Elemental urges designed to keep the flames of affection and desire between immortal lovers burning brightly for all time. Profoundly and eternally felt by Elfkind if the vows of love and fidelity were spoken with true hearts and souls.

That haunted Elrohir above all else. It seemed Legolas did not feel the pull to quite the same degree as all others did. That raised a deeply disturbing question. Why didn't he?

Glossary:  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
melethril – female lover  
hir nîn – my lord  
muindor – brother

_To be continued_…


	100. Bereth 3a Unresolved Issues

**AN 1:** Since I've managed to access my account again however temporary it may prove, I will post as many of the stories of G&I as time and opportunity provides. Hopefully, I'll be able to complete the series on this site. Thanks to everyone who contacted me and offered me support and advice. By the way, some chapters will be posted in two parts due to their lengths, which the document manager for some reason seems unable to handle.

**AN 2:** Again, I would like to remind one and all that this particular tale was an experimental exercise for me and was inspired more by science fiction than fantasy. Consequently, there are some AU elements to it though I did my best to stick to canon in all other aspects.

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Unresolved Issues  
The patrol returned little more than a week later. The twin lords joined Thranduil and his older sons. Melthoron and Brethildor, at the doors of his halls, Elrohir concerned for Legolas' well-being, Elladan itching to give the archer a piece of his mind. But all such considerations were cast aside when they saw what the Elven rangers had brought back with them.

"What in Arda—?" Brethildor gasped as he and the others beheld the human remains laid out on the frozen ground.

There were three corpses, all male. And all in attitudes of torment, glassy eyes staring in abject fright, mouths yawning open in silent screams, rigid fingers clawing or clutching at the Valar only knew what. But there was not a mark on them to indicate what had killed them save for a strange desiccated look to their flesh that made it seem like grey parchment. Yet they could not have been dead for very long for the elements to have such an effect on their bodies. Their clothes were whole and, while travel-stained, relatively new. And no beast had had the time or opportunity to despoil the bodies.

The twins knelt by the corpses and swiftly, with the supple fingers of seasoned healers, examined the bodies, fair faces creased with baffled frowns. At length, Elladan looked up and shook his head.

"We will need to make a more thorough examination of their bodies but thus far there is nothing here to tell us what slew them," he said. "There are no apparent wounds or blows that might have proven fatal to them."

"But their flesh is curiously bereft of moisture," Elrohir remarked. "This should not be if they have only died recently." He hesitated then placed his hand over one man's eyes.

"_Gwanneth_..."—younger twin—Elladan said warningly.

"I will not attempt to probe too deeply," Elrohir assured him. At his twin's reluctant nod, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath then went utterly still.

"What is he doing?" Brethildor asked curiously.

"It is sometimes possible to glean something of the last thoughts of the dead if one has the gift and if death was fairly recent," Elladan soberly explained. "Our grandmother and father had the skill and Elrohir inherited some of it."

"Why did you caution him?" Thranduil inquired, somewhat awed that his younger law-son should possess such a talent. "Is it dangerous?"

"It can be draining," Elladan admitted. "Particularly if one attempts to delve too long or deeply." He turned his attention back to his brother, noting after several moments the increasingly pale cast of his skin. He sharply called him back. "Elrohir!"

The Elf-knight let out a gasp then sagged wearily against Elladan when the latter caught him in his arms. "Are you all right?" the older twin inquired worriedly.

After a few balming breaths, Elrohir nodded. He glanced at the others.

"There was not much to see," he conceded. "The thoughts of men fade more swiftly than those of Elves. But there is some devilry at work here. This one's last vision was of a – a woman."

"A woman?" Thranduil repeated in puzzlement.

"Aye. It was vague. I could not make out many details. But she provoked much horror in him. He was trying to get away. At least, that is the impression I received."

"Why would a mere woman terrify him so?" Melthoron mused. "It sounds most improbable."

"Nevertheless, she did," Elrohir said. "His last thoughts were of pure terror and – and pain. Great pain."

"Yet you say there are no obvious marks of violence on any of the bodies," Legolas commented. "Nor was there evidence of a struggle where we found them. 'Tis as if they did not expect an assault."

"They most likely did not until it was too late," Elladan said slowly. He had been fingering the man's clothing thoughtfully. "I wager they were not afraid of whoever it was that approached them. Else this man would not have rendered himself so vulnerable by coupling with his assailant."

"What?!" Thranduil exclaimed. The Elvenking moved closer to see what the older twin had discovered.

Elladan shoved aside the man's long tunic to reveal unlaced breeches and the evidence of a carnal encounter. With a hiss, Elrohir did the same for the other corpses and found their trousers in the same state of disarray.

Legolas frowned. "We did not notice that," he said, obviously displeased.

"They were at their least cautious," Elladan murmured. "It was then that their slayers struck."

"But it still does not explain how they were killed," Melthoron said in frustration.

Thranduil turned back to his youngest son. "I would have the full tale, Legolas. Come, you will relate to us all that you know."

After dismissing the rest of the troop and other onlookers, he led the way to his study in the royal pavilion. Calling for food and wine for his newly returned son, he did not question Legolas until the latter had refreshed himself. Only then did he have the archer recount what happened, everyone listening keenly for anything that might give them a clue as to what had befallen the unfortunate men.

"So, they were encamped elsewhere," Elladan remarked when Legolas was done. "Which means they had wandered away from each other with their respective partners. Who were they and where were they heading?"

"I believe they were traders from the settlements around Hithaeglir on their way to Dale or Esgaroth," Legolas supplied. "They had many goods with them."

"Did they not wonder what women would be doing all alone in such an isolated area?" Brethildor put in.

"Mayhap the women led them to believe that they were from nearby colonies." Elrohir surmised. "Few men know that only Elves have settled the north of Greenwood. But I doubt that they cared for much beyond the quick tumble that was offered them."

"Their lack of caution cost them their lives," Melthoron snorted

Thranduil scowled. "I doubt this will be the end of it," he stated. "We must be even more vigilant." He addressed Brethildor. "Send out scouting parties to scour the north. I would know if there have been other victims of whom we are unaware. And, Melthoron, send messages to our neighbors, even to Erebor. If they do not already know something of this, I would have them warned."

He glanced at Legolas then noted how Elrohir's eyes would settle more oft than not on the archer. The Elvenking's mouth tightened. Always well informed of the goings on within his kingdom, he was not ignorant of the whispers surrounding his youngest son's relationship with the Elf-lord nor did he think Legolas anything less than culpable for what those whispers suggested. The tale of Legolas' precipitate and unannounced leave-taking of Elrohir had already reached his ears via the servants' grapevine.

And his son had not redeemed himself upon his arrival either. He had not returned Elrohir's greeting in kind or succored him when he overtaxed himself retrieving the dead man's last thoughts. Even now he still had not shown any outward regard for his binding-mate, an odd thing considering they'd been apart for more than a week.

With a hint of reproof in his tone, he said to Legolas: "We will continue this later, _ion nîn_. For now, I suggest you take your rest and spend what is left of the day with Elrohir."

Legolas started at his father's words then glanced at Elrohir. The twin's face remained impassive in the presence of the king but a flicker of emotion showed for an instant in his eyes. Feeling guilty, Legolas acquiesced to his father's command.

After they had left, Elladan sighed and glanced at his law-father. "You should not have to tell him what to do, _Adar_"—Father—he murmured.

Thranduil, his mouth still tight, replied, "I know." He shook his head and added, "Truth be told, I am tempted to take my hand to his backside. 'Tis a pity he is too old for such measures."

Such plainspoken criticism of their youngest brother elicited surprised reactions from Melthoron and Brethildor. It was a rare day when even Thranduil found Legolas' behavior wanting.

Meanwhile, Legolas and Elrohir reached their chamber. With a relieved sigh, Legolas at once changed into fresh clothing, deferring a much longed for warm bath until after the evening meal. Elrohir watched him frowningly. At length he spoke.

"Why did you not tell me you were leaving with the patrol?" the warrior quietly asked.

Legolas shrugged. "I only thought of it when I awoke," he said. "Since you were still asleep I decided not to disturb you."

"You could have left a note."

"I did not think of it."

Elrohir pursed his lips grimly. "'Tis not pleasant having to learn of your whereabouts from someone else," he said.

Legolas suddenly swung around and faced him, eyes flashing. "I came here to rest, Elrohir," he snapped. "Not to be reproached. I would very much appreciate it if you would leave me in peace."

Twilight pools glittered dangerously. Stifling an urge to lash out with a well-deserved punch, Elrohir answered instead, "As you wish."

Without further ado, he left the bedchamber. A surge of remorse clutched at the prince and he nearly followed. But his pride hindered him and with stubborn resolve he refrained from doing what any Elf with an ounce of sense would have done.

He saw no more of Elrohir for the rest of the day. The darkling Elf stayed away, spending his time with his twin or speaking with the rangers about the corpses, questioning them more thoroughly about the circumstances under which they had found them. If it struck the warrior Elves as odd that the Lord Elrohir should seek information from them when he could have gotten it from Prince Legolas himself, they did not give voice to it. And when he took his meals with his twin and law-sister, staying pointedly away from the prince, no one dared question that either.

So grievous was his resentment that he could not even bring himself to return to their apartment to bathe. Instead he had taken his bath in Elladan's rooms, borrowing a robe after he was done. But seeing Nimeithel's sleepy countenance, he knew he could not impinge on his brother's time any longer. With a sigh, he thanked them for their forbearance and reluctantly returned to his own chambers.

Upon entering, his first thought was that the apartment was empty. But then he discerned movement in the bathing chamber and went to see if Legolas was within. He stopped at the door, unwillingly mesmerized by the sight that greeted him.

Legolas had just emerged from his own bath and now stood to one side of the room, toweling himself dry. His skin glowed golden in the candlelight, the shadows defining most succinctly the lines and shallows of his long, well-toned form. His damp mane streamed down his back like a shimmering silken curtain.

Elrohir struggled against the reaction this image evoked in him but knew it would be in vain. He was never happy when they were not together, not since he had won the archer's heart. Their binding had made it all the more difficult to endure being apart even for the length of a mere week. And the sheer beauty of the picture before him was no help at all.

Acknowledging the fruitlessness of further resistance, he silently approached the prince and slipped his arms around him from behind. Legolas started but quickly recognized the presence of the younger twin. He leaned back into the embrace and for a few heartbeats they remained thus, relishing the renewed closeness between them that had been aborted earlier in the day.

At length, Elrohir moved around him and pushed him gently against the wall. Wordlessly, he leaned in and captured the archer in a slow, tantalizing kiss. Legolas surrendered to it at once; the Elf-lord had always been able to unravel him with his potent kisses. Now was no exception as he felt his lips parted, his mouth invaded and explored.

He moaned in protest when Elrohir broke the contact only to groan when the other paid attention to the side of his neck, slowly moving up its length to nuzzle his ear then trailing down once more to nibble at his throat. An unfamiliar scent pierced his senses. He shoved the robe off the twin's shoulders impatiently.

"Take this off," he demanded, his voice rough, for Elrohir's tongue was now tracing a path down his chest. "It smells of Elladan!"

A husky chuckle inflamed him further. "I had thought there was no difference in our scents," Elrohir remarked, paying particular attention to one already hard nipple even as he shrugged off the offending robe completely.

"Nay," Legolas gasped as the Elf-knight moved even lower to lave the taut planes of his abdomen. "I can tell the difference. I will have no one else in our bed with us."

"As to that, the bed can wait."

Legolas shuddered as his groin was licked and his thighs gently bitten. And then he pressed hard against the wall, needing the support, when Elrohir ran his tongue along his length. It had been a long week and, Elbereth! how he had missed the dark-haired twin. Moments later, he could no longer think about anything as his mate engulfed him in the warmth of his mouth.

Elrohir was a master at such pleasuring. Long experience and a predilection for variety in his early youth had taught him more than was considered seemly even amongst Elfkind. Legolas sometimes wondered if it was a blessing or a torment or both to have so much knowledge put to good if cataclysmic use on him.

He was soon reduced to a shaking, barely standing mass of thrumming nerves and shivery muscles grasping at Elrohir's shoulders to brace himself. He would have gladly collapsed onto the floor for his knees had suddenly grown uncooperative and threatened to give way. But Elrohir's strong hands and arms held him up, trapping him against the wall. And then the Elf-lord went even further, reaching up behind him and sliding a finger into his body to stroke him from within. Legolas hissed at the unexpected contact, nearly rearing but for the twin's firm hold on his hips.

It was too much. That suckling mouth, the swirling tongue, his stroking finger. Completion came in rolling waves of sensation that swept up and down his whole body before pooling explosively in the center of his being. With a strangled cry he spilled his release into the Elf-knight's willing mouth.

He would have sunk to his knees if Elrohir had not risen and caught him in his arms, a knowing smile on his handsome countenance. He clung to the twin, trying to force some semblance of order upon the sensual chaos in his mind and body.

"That-that was quite a welcome," he finally managed to say, his voice still ragged.

Elrohir grinned. "You're very welcome," he replied impishly.

Legolas looked at him with fond exasperation. "You always manage to undo me," he said. "I doubt I will ever be able to catch up with you."

"But I enjoy it when you try, Calenlass," the warrior teased him. "You are a fast learner and your apprenticeships seldom last longer than the space of a night. Indeed, your mastery in swordplay is not to be belittled."

The prince's eyes gleamed darkly as his passion began to build anew even as his strength returned. Elrohir also had a way with words that was guaranteed to ignite his desire for the darkling Elf. It was an addiction, dangerous to the archer's mind, that waxed with each passing year and threatened his already tenuous hold on his emotions and desires where the younger twin was concerned.

The Elven prince had come a long way since the days when he had declared he would never care for the touch of an _ellon_. Elrohir had awakened in him the long-dormant _Edhil_ duality the Greenwood Elves had tried to subdue in their need to keep their numbers substantial and formidable amidst the vagaries of life in Middle-earth. As love slowly overtook him his initial hesitant pliancy with Elrohir progressed into willing and then eager complicity in their couplings. Their subsequent espousal had further intensified that driving desire to join their bodies and souls as often as possible.

Unbidden, the need to reestablish control over himself came upon him. It was a need that had grown since their binding. A need he assiduously fed for fear of losing himself to the inexplicable pull he felt deep within his being whenever he was with Elrohir. Without warning, he insistently drew the warrior into the bedchamber and pushed him down onto the bed. Before Elrohir could muster a question or comment of any kind, he pinned him down with his body and sealed his mouth to the other Elf's, effectively silencing him.

Faint alarm rang in Elrohir's mind. He had come to recognize this pattern of sudden reaction after he pleasured the other. It invariably led to the archer demanding that he yield. Indeed, in the past year alone, the balance between them had tilted severely with Legolas taking him so often that he could actually count the times when their positions were reversed. He had the disturbing feeling that they were no longer equals in their conjugal bed and, even more troubling, that Legolas preferred it that way.

But his misgivings were swept away as the archer now paid homage to his body in turn. Despite their earlier banter, Legolas was no laggard in the love-arts. As Elrohir had observed, he was a swift apprentice and could easily reduce his spouse to a state of helpless wanting. He proceeded to do so now, hungrily claiming Elrohir with as much dexterity as the warrior had done to him but a few minutes earlier.

The Elf-knight gasped as he was mounted swiftly and arbitrarily. But as always, the mere thought that he shared himself with Legolas, that it was his golden prince who took him thus was enough to vanquish all other considerations. He gave in to the tumult within him, allowed himself to ride the crest of pleasure their joinings never failed to unleash. As both let go of all control, the binding-channel opened fully between them and their feelings flowed across unhindered. The result was a shared swathing of mounting rapture, an experience that defied all description. Elrohir reached his peak uttering one name, the only name that meant the world to him. Hearing his own name upon the archer's lips as he, too, came to completion, further heightened his bliss.

_End of Part 1. Continue to Part 2…_


	101. Bereth 3b Unresolved Issues

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Unresolved Issues (Part 2)  
Legolas collapsed against Elrohir's chest, still panting slightly. He listened to the Elf-warrior's heartbeat as it slowly returned to its normal pace. Agile fingers tenderly raked his silver-gold tresses, untangling the silky strands. It was a soothing gesture that made him more than content to be back in the twin's arms.

"Definitely a most apt pupil," he heard Elrohir's still breathy but gently teasing voice.

He raised his head and looked at the twin, liking the rosy glow of his countenance. He grinned cheekily. "I merely followed the example of a most competent teacher," he replied.

The grey eyes were soft with affection. Whatever had disturbed the Elf-lord's calm earlier was quiescent for now. Relieved, Legolas lay back beside him.

"Valar, 'tis good to be back," he commented lazily.

Elrohir glanced at him, another smile beginning to grace his sinuous lips.

Legolas suddenly snickered. He looked at the darkling Elf, eyes twinkling with merriment. "You do not know how much I missed this," he said. "You may count yourself fortunate that there was no Elf in the scouting party with looks to match yours. Else I might have turned to him or her for relief!"

He turned his eyes upwards to stare into the shadows of the ceiling as he spoke and thereby missed Elrohir's startled then incredulous reaction. The twin could not believe his ears. He felt his heart grow heavy once more. Did Legolas not realize just how much such words stung?

He swallowed hard and tried to push away his doubts. Mayhap he was making too much of what was most certainly a jocular remark. But try as he might he could not dispel the pain. He could make as many excuses as he could think of but it all came down to one immutable fact. Espoused _Edhil_ never spoke thus, not even in jest. It was regarded as execrable taste for one binding-mate to make allusions to the other's potential for unfaithfulness; it was downright repugnant to suggest one's own self might be tempted to it. Bound Elves' instinctive regard for their spouses was supposed to prevent them from even bantering about something so unheard of and forbidden as infidelity within a living relationship.

Again, worry assailed him. Why did Legolas not seem to feel this natural restraint? This was not the first time he had made such allusions; only the most recent and barefaced.

"Elrohir?" The archer's voice cut into his troubled thoughts. "Why so quiet of a sudden?"

Elrohir tried to smile, determinedly suppressing the welling sadness that seemed to overtake him so frequently of late. He shook his head and simply said, "I was thinking how much I missed _you_," placing careful emphasis on the pronoun.

It did not seem to register on the prince's mind for he only smirked and replied, "I should hope so!"

Elrohir quelled a sigh of frustration. He gazed at the archer and quietly studied his elegant profile. The contrast between them went far beyond mere coloring and carriage. The ways of their minds and demeanor also diverged significantly.

Elrohir, child of Eldarin Imladris, for all his ferocity and passion, was stately grace and deep learning personified. The latter was to be expected of a son of Elrond, the former a legacy of the High-elven culture of the last great haven of the Noldor in Middle-earth.

Legolas, on the other hand, though of royal blood, was as elemental as nature itself. Born of the noblest of Grey-elves, he was still a child of Greenwood.

Thranduil was by no means an unlearned, backwoods Elf. He had lived amongst the Eldar of Lindon in his youth ere his and his kinsman Celeborn's removal to the forests in the east where they had founded realms and ruled over the more rustic Silvan Elves. As such he had not neglected his children's education. But much had been withheld from them because of the Greenwood kingdom's isolation from the other elven realms.

Lithesome as the mighty stags that roamed the forest glades, Legolas was far more innocent than Elrohir had ever been as an Elfling in fabled Rivendell. He was certainly wiser than most mere mortals due to the many years of his life and his long association with the Peredhil twins. But in comparison to Elrohir with his loremaster's learning, he was still very much a student; an eager and able one but a student nevertheless.

Yet that did not in any way diminish his allure in Elrohir's eyes. His heart was pure and his mind ever hungry for knowledge. And he had a zest for life that brightened his eyes from within. For these reasons and many more, the twin had come to love him as he had never loved any other, be they Elf male or maid. And always will, he admitted gravely to himself.

He reached for the prince's hand, entwining their supple fingers fondly. "I love you, Calenlass," he whispered.

To his disconcertment, Legolas looked at him with amusement and said half-jokingly, "I must decline your not so subtle hint, _roch vreg_."—wild stallion. He stretched out his lean form, sleek as a panther. "For once, I must plead exhaustion and would take some rest." He withdrew his hand from the warrior's clasp.

Elrohir nearly choked at the careless words and offhand manner. Trembling violently, he managed to make a reply though it took all his will not to imbue it with the acid it so fervently begged for. If he allowed his anger to surface now, Legolas would respond in kind. Elrohir was in no mood for another quarrel. Truth be told, he had neither the heart nor the energy for one this night. Indeed, day by day both dwindled as did his will to mend the ever-growing rift between them.

"'Twas no hint for anything, Legolas," he said tightly.

The fair-haired Elf glanced at him, puzzled by the tone of his voice. But the twin was staring impassively into the dark. A prickle of unease touched the prince. Unfortunately, the irresistible lure of much needed sleep overcame him and he dismissed it, thinking to deal with whatever the problem was in the morning.

Elrohir heard the change in his breathing as it turned into the steady rhythm that went with slumber. He closed his eyes tightly, stifling the anguished groan that longed to escape his lips. What has become of him? he asked himself not for the first time. Where was the sweet and affectionate prince he had first loved as a friend, then brother, and finally as his heart's mate?

He lay in the dark, unable to find rest, feeling incongruously alone. That wounded him keenly. To share the same bed with Legolas, to know the warmth of his body close by and still feel so utterly alone and forsaken – it was unbearable.

Silently, he slipped out of bed, pulled on a loose shirt and trousers and left the room.

oOoOoOo

It was well past the midnight hour when Legolas knocked on the door of his sister's apartment. A few minutes later, a sleepy Elladan opened the door. He blinked woozily when he saw the archer. He came fully awake in an instant.

"Legolas, do you realize what time it is?" he scowled.

"Forgive me, _gwanur_"—brother—Legolas apologized. "But Elrohir is not in our rooms and I wondered if you knew where he might be."

The older twin stared at him a moment. Then, as if coming to a decision, he stepped back and motioned to the prince to enter the sitting room. Puzzled, Legolas did so then stopped in surprise.

There, stretched out upon the couch, was Elrohir, fast asleep. Legolas looked at Elladan in confusion. The darkling Elf answered his unvoiced question.

"He came to us a few hours ago asking if he could stay here," he said. "He said he did not want to be alone."

The statement was like a slap to the archer. "But he was not alone!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice, conscious of his slumbering sister in the chamber beyond.

"Mayhap, he felt like it," Elladan pointed out.

"But why?"

Elladan glowered at his friend, wondering if he was truly unknowing of the distress he had caused Elrohir or if he was being deliberately obtuse.

"Were you happy to come home to him?" he challenged the other.

Legolas stared at the older twin in surprise. "Of course I was. He knows I missed him."

"Nay, you told him you missed your couplings. There is a world of difference between missing someone and missing an act that can be easily assuaged by any willing body."

Legolas started, recalling his jape. "Is that what drove him here?" he said incredulously. "'Tis uncommonly sensitive of him to take offense at a mere jest."

Elladan hissed with exasperation. First Nimeithel, now Legolas. But at least his wife had the mood swings wrought by her pregnancy to blame for her sometimes unruly tongue. Otherwise, she was very much aware of the indecorousness of such talk and never intentionally spoke thus to him. What excuse did Legolas have?

"Uncommonly sensitive?" he growled, his eyebrows rising in anger. "And would you be so calm had he told you that in your absence he had been tempted to take some withy maid or strapping Elf to bed?"

Legolas paused then shook his head, acknowledging the older twin's point.

"Elves do not jest about such things," Elladan pressed on caustically. "Not if we care for our loved ones' feelings. I am surprised you do not know this."

The prince stayed silent, Elladan's rebuke striking him to the core. Elladan exhaled, willing his anger to fade and not quite succeeding. "You left him with nary a word," he chided. "He had to learn of your departure from a servant during breakfast. Have you any idea how humiliating that was for him? An Elf who does not know where his spouse is?"

Legolas blanched guiltily. He had barked at Elrohir for voicing the same sentiment. Then, hardly had the Elf-knight tried to mend matters between them, when he had hurt him once more with his thoughtless sally.

"Will he come back with me?" he asked hesitantly.

Elladan heaved a frustrated sigh. "I do not know. It would depend on—" He regarded the prince acidly. "Tell me something, _gwanur_, when was the last time you told him you love him?"

The broad hint was not lost on the archer. He flinched inwardly once more. I love you, Greenleaf, the younger twin had said earlier. His response had been worse than inadequate. It had been downright criminal.

Seeing his law-brother's reaction, Elladan shook his head and said with a touch of aspersion, "I thought as much. Ai, Legolas, you astound me with your unending capacity to hurt him." He silently retreated into the bedchamber leaving behind a shocked prince.

Chastened, Legolas softly approached his sleeping _bereth_ and knelt before him. Uncertain how to rouse him, he settled instinctively on a warm kiss. Elrohir moaned then opened his eyes confusedly. They widened in surprise when he beheld the prince.

"Please come back," Legolas softly implored him. When the twin hesitated, he added pleadingly, "'Tis lonely without you."

After another pause, Elrohir finally nodded and rose along with the prince. They silently walked the short distance to their apartments.

Uneasy at Elrohir's demeanor, Legolas sought to dispel the uncomfortable silence between them. Once within, he stopped the Elf-knight from slipping back into their bed and took his hands in his, squeezing them earnestly. He peered into the twilight eyes with anxiety.

"What I said earlier was in jest, Aduial," he said. "I know it was in ill-taste and should never have been uttered, but I swear it was nothing more than that. You are the only one I could ever want, Elrohir. Indeed, I missed you these past many days, I truly did."

The warrior remained pensive. "If you say so," Elrohir briefly answered.

Legolas winced at the passive response. Recalling the older twin's pointed assertions, Legolas realized how correct Elladan had been about his behavior and Elrohir's feelings.

He cupped the warrior's face, made his spouse look at him. "My actions were unconscionable," he admitted. "Please forgive me." He felt the sting of remorse smite him when Elrohir's eyes failed to regain their argent light. "I love you, my Elf-knight" he whispered fervently. "Never doubt that I do." He sealed his mouth to Elrohir's in as tender a kiss as he could muster.

For a moment, Elrohir hesitated. How often had they gone through this before? Always the prince would try to repair whatever damage he had inflicted upon their relationship but he did it piecemeal and it never lasted. Sooner or late, there would be another confrontation and they would repeat the same process all over again. And still he had no explanation for his mate's behavior. How could he when Legolas refused to speak of it and any attempt to discuss the problem only resulted in discord?

But in the end, he could not resist Legolas' overtures. He had meant it when he told Elladan his heart belonged to the prince. Even if he shredded it to bits and cast the pieces into the deeps of the sea. He curled his arms around Legolas and pulled him flush against him. When the archer pressed into him invitingly, he did not resist and allowed Legolas to draw him down onto their bed.

For this night at least, he forgot his worries as the heated sweetness of their joining numbed his mind and caressed his soul.

Glossary:  
ion nîn – my son  
ellon – male Elf  
Edhil - Elven, Elves  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
bereth - spouse  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)

_To be continued_…


	102. Bereth 4 Conundrum

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III: Conundrum  
The scouts returned with reports of more mysteriously slain victims in the northern reaches of the forest and on the less travelled trails that skirted the borders of Greenwood. All bore the same lack of discernable marks that might indicate the cause of their deaths.

The messengers returned from the eastern settlements, the south of the forest and Dale and Esgaroth with letters of acknowledgement. None knew anything of such strange slayings and were therefore all the more grateful for the Elves' warnings. But the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had a different reply and it was delivered personally.

"Gimli!"

Legolas delightedly and rapidly approached his friend as soon as he entered the great hall. Gimli immediately stiffened defensively.

"Keep your distance, Elf!" he exclaimed in alarm. "I'll have no confounded hugging for a welcome!"

The Elven prince laughed out loud and came to a stop before him. Chuckling, he laid an affectionate hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. In turn, Gimli grinned and patted the Elf's arm warmly.

"You have not changed at all, Gimli, thank Eru," Legolas smiled. "But what are you doing up north? Last we heard you were delving a new hall at Aglarond."

"You're not the only one who misses kith and kin on occasion," Gimli retorted. "But if you must know, my father has been somewhat poorly this past year and I thought to spend time with him. He is quite old after all."

Legolas nodded. "Aye, but still a most redoubtable Dwarf nonetheless." He eyed his friend curiously. "You did not come here just to pay me a visit."

Gimli shook his head. "I bear tidings that may have much to do with the warning you sent my people."

"Indeed. Then you must speak of it at once to my father. Come, my friend."

Gimli's tale was indeed much related to the Elves' grisly discoveries. As he recounted it to the Elvenking, his sons and law-sons in Thranduil's study, the others were seen to shift uneasily in their seats as the eerie story unfolded.

Just a few weeks past, a party of Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had stumbled across two of their fellows on the scarcely used road that wound its way around the foothills of the Ered Mithrin. There was seldom any use for the old road nowadays for few cared to brave the perils of Orcs and bandits who made the Grey Mountains their haunt. But Dwarves still traversed the path that led them close to one of their former homes. It was more sentimentality than anything else though a Dwarf would rather perish than admit to this. And being of a hardy race, they were not easily cowed by the dangers posed by orkish or human brigands.

Thus, they had been startled by the appearance of the two travelers. Both had looked more dead than alive, their eyes strangely vacant, their bodies oddly drawn, as if something had been drained from them. And they had babbled incessantly and incoherently about their assailants. Human women. What these women had done to them was not clear but they had somehow managed to escape with their lives still flickering though severely diminished. Both had since lost consciousness and now slept, if one could call such unfeeling, undreaming oblivion sleep.

Careful questioning of the Dwarf-lord elicited the information that neither victim had been propositioned as the human victims consistently were. They'd apparently been attacked as they made their way along the road. And, no, it had not been a large group that had waylaid them. Their ramblings seemed to indicate two women at most.

The Dwarves had not known what to make of the outlandish babbling of the two until Thranduil's warning arrived. Realizing that the incident might actually be but part of a string of several and recent occurrences, they had sent Gimli to discover what he might from his Elven friends.

Silence reigned for several minutes as the Elves pondered his news. At length, Elrohir spoke.

"Curious," he murmured. "If your kinsmen were waylaid by the same creatures that slew the victims we have thus far discovered, 'tis puzzling why they did not succumb but were merely – drained as you put it."

"Aye, that is indeed a puzzle," Gimli agreed. "Might it have something to do with our being of another race?"

"It might," Thranduil mused. "Your kindred is stronger and more enduring than human-kind. Mayhap you are more resistant to whatever means they employ to kill their victims."

Elladan glanced at his brother. Elrohir had risen to walk to the map that graced one wall of the study. It was a beautifully and accurately rendered map of Middle-earth. The younger twin began to trace a path with his finger along the northernmost reaches of Eryn Lasgalen all the way to the deserted road by the Ered Mithrin.

"What is it, _gwanneth_?"—younger twin—he asked.

Elrohir stared at the map for a few seconds before looking back at them. "All the incidents occurred in the north, whether on the forest paths or open roads, and all involved travelers moving between the eastern settlements and Dale and Esgaroth. No attacks have happened deep within Eryn Lasgalen or in the hearts of the towns and cities."

"Meaning?" Brethildor inquired.

"It would seem they are yet limited in number that they hesitate to invade populous communities."

"Aye, that is an idea," Elladan said. He joined his brother before the map. "But where do they conceal themselves? Whatever they may be they must have a haven to retreat to."

"Might these killers hide themselves amongst their kindred?" Gimli suggested.

"Possible," Thranduil remarked.

"But improbable," Elrohir said. "There has not been a single incident outside of this specific area, which is already a fearsome distance from other human settlements. Yet there are plentiful byways to the west and east wherein to ambush unsuspecting wayfarers. Nay, our slayers have confined themselves to this particular region as of now. It stands to reason therefore that they also conceal themselves in the same area.

Legolas glanced from one twin to the other. The brethren had directed their grey gazes at one focal point on the map.

"The mountains?" he said sharply. "Do you believe they hide themselves in the Ered Mithrin?"

Elladan nodded. "No one now enters the mountains for any reason other than concealment as the Orcs and brigands do."

"Though there has been a dearth of banditry in recent years," Elrohir quietly put in. "And the disappearances of women have ceased as well."

There was a concerted gasp. "You think those two events are related?" Thranduil said.

"I cannot claim anything with certitude," Elrohir replied. "But it seems too much of a coincidence that soon after these disappearances should stop that these killings should begin. And both cases involve women. The first as victims, the second as predators. Couple this with the sudden halt in incursions by the human outlaws who long frequented the Grey Mountains and one might surmise that there is a connection somewhere."

"The outlaws may have been the first victims," Melthoron choked. "Ai, that is a sound conjecture, _gwanur_."

"And a frightening one," Thranduil said grimly.

oOoOoOo

They continued to discuss the matter during the noonday meal. After explaining the situation to his wife, Elladan joined his twin in analyzing everything they'd learned so far while Legolas and Gimli contributed their own ideas now and anon.

At length, Elladan noticed the odd gleam in Elrohir's eyes. "What have you got in mind?" he queried.

Elrohir pursed his mouth musingly. "I believe a trip to the Ered Mithrin is warranted," he replied. "We knew the mountains long ago, _gwaniuar_. Best we put our memories to good use now.

Nimeithel frowned. "You would dare so perilous an undertaking?" she objected. "_Hervenn!_"—husband!

Elladan clasped her hand but before he could speak, Elrohir forestalled him. "I did not say we would both go. I will do this alone." At Elladan's indignant protests, he added: "Nimeithel is very near her time. She will need you close by, _tôren_."—my brother.

Elladan snorted. "And what good would I be worrying about you _and_ the possibility that whatever evil is out there may reach out to harm my wife and child?" He looked seriously at Nimeithel. "_Melethril_, I do not desire to leave your side but neither can I allow Elrohir to go alone. Not when this mystery needs solving and soon. We must not allow more lives to be claimed if we can help it."

Nimeithel bit her lip then nodded resignedly. Legolas, however, covered Elrohir's hand with his and declared: "I will go with you."

Elrohir shook his head. "I would not put you in such danger, Legolas," he said. "You already faced almost certain ruin when you left on the Quest. No one should embark on such an endeavor twice in his life."

Legolas' eyes flashed warningly. "You would ask me to let you face danger without me?" he retorted. "I cannot, Elrohir. I will not endure lurking in craven safety while my mate stalks evil and possible death." His grip on Elrohir's hand tightened. "My path lies with you, Aduial, even unto the end of life. I will go with you."

Elrohir gazed at him in some surprise. Such displays of the prince's love for him had grown so increasingly infrequent that any took him quite aback. And touched him so deeply his heart and soul willingly set aside whatever misgivings they harbored. He caught Elladan's dubious expression and chose to ignore it.

"Thank you, Calenlass," he softly said with a gentle smile. For some reason, it made Legolas blush and he wondered anew at his mate's mercurial moods.

Gimli harrumphed at this point. "Well then, when do we leave?"

Legolas looked at him with upraised eyebrows. "We?"

Gimli turned a pugnacious countenance upon him. "You need someone to keep an eye on you young 'uns."

"Young!" Legolas nearly choked on the word, caught as he was between mirth and umbrage.

"Well, not in years perhaps," Gimli declared. "But sometimes _you_ give me cause to wonder if you've ever really grown up!"

Nimeithel burst into laughter at her brother's patently offended mien. Elladan smirked with just the barest trace of malice while Elrohir grinningly squeezed his discomfited mate's hand.

They informed Thranduil of their plans immediately after the meal. The Elvenking was not overly pleased but, being of a practical bent of mind, he also knew he could not dissuade them and that he should not. They needed answers and if these were to be found in the Grey Mountains, then that is where they would have to go. Not that he cared to sacrifice his son or sons-by-law in the process but, as they, he knew and accepted the burdens of duty and honor. And so he gave them his blessings however grudging the giving may have been in his love and concern for them.

Later when he and Legolas returned to their chamber, Elrohir was surprised anew. He was reaching for his weapons to ready them for the journey when the archer stopped him. He glanced at Legolas questioningly.

"Why did you think I would agree to be left behind?" the prince queried. "Since when have I cared to be parted from you?"

Elrohir gazed at him for a space before answering. Such declarations from the archer further cemented his conviction that whatever drove Legolas to behave otherwise at other times was not something he was fully cognizant of. Hence, Elrohir's never faltering love for him even when he yearned at times to put distance between them.

"I once watched you walk into gathering darkness," he quietly replied. "I do not wish to do so again."

Legolas frowned. "I am as much a warrior as you," he reminded his spouse. "Neither of us can refuse our duty even if it should demand our very lives."

"But I am also a _bereth_ and I cannot deny my heart's desire to keep you safe and happy," Elrohir gently pointed out.

"That is absurd, Elrohir," Legolas said, his voice taking on a slight edge. "I will not have anyone shield me, not even you."

"Yet shield you I will, whether you wish it or not, _seron vell_"—beloved —Elrohir replied. "I cannot help myself anymore than you can stop breathing."

Legolas opened his mouth to retort. But he suddenly saw Elrohir's eyes change from open to wary and became aware that the Elf-knight was readying himself for a verbal battle. The prince flushed uncomfortably. Contrary to general opinion, he was not wholly oblivious of the strain in their relationship or that he was oft responsible for it.

"I suppose you are right," he muttered. He turned away abruptly to see to his own preparations. But he did not turn away swiftly enough to avoid seeing the pensiveness return to Elrohir's eyes.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he paused and looked back at the warrior. Elrohir had abandoned his initial intent to bring out his weapons and had walked onto the balcony instead. He was staring down at the cold-withered gardens, obviously attempting to regain his composure. Legolas bit his lip. He had not meant to be so sharp in his reaction. It was just that he so disliked being coddled in any manner.

A flutter of fear hit the pit of his stomach. He was always uneasy when Elrohir drew away from him as he did now. He'd been keeping secrets from his binding-mate and knew that this had contributed to their present troubles. Yet proud as he was he could not bring himself to speak of the matter that had upended all his notions of his very self. It was simply too discomfiting a thing to admit even to his beloved Elf-knight.

Sighing, he followed Elrohir and, coming up behind him, wrapped his arms around the warrior and pulled him back against him. To his intense relief and thankfulness, the twin did not resist or pull away but relaxed into the embrace.

"I can take care of myself, Aduial," he murmured. "Surely you know that."

Elrohir half turned his head to regard him sideways. "I do," he said softly. "If I desire to protect you, 'tis because I love you. I cannot bear seeing you take any hurt no matter how much I esteem your prowess." He hesitated then plunged on. "Why can you not accept this from me, Legolas?"

He felt the lean arms around him stiffen and he steeled himself for yet another confrontation. But then Legolas perceptibly forced down his tension and pressed his lips against his neck. The sensation made him shiver involuntarily.

"I will try."

The offer was muted and oh so reluctantly made but that it had been made at all was cause enough for Elrohir to smile. He still did not know what had altered Legolas' demeanor these past few years. But moments such as this buoyed his spirit enough to strengthen his resolve to uncover the reason behind his mate's waywardness and, the Valar willing, heal whatever ailed him and their relationship.

He turned in Legolas' arms and sealed his lips to the archer's, catching him by surprise. After a few heart-stopping moments, he drew away and peered into Legolas' now darkened eyes.

"And now whither?" he archly inquired.

Legolas' eyes deepened into indigo.

"Bed," said he and promptly pulled Elrohir back into the privacy of their chamber.

Glossary:  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
gwaniuar – older twin  
melethril – female lover  
Aduial - Twilight  
Calenlass – Greenleaf  
bereth – spouse; husband or wife

_To be continued_…


	103. Bereth 5 Traces

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV: Traces  
The twins led the way once they reached the Ered Mithrin. Centuries ago, the brethren had dared to explore this region in their vengeance-driven questing against Orcs and their ilk. Thus, they alone knew something of the mountains that were said to harbor dragons to this day though no worm had evidenced itself since Smaug's demise over Esgaroth more than a century ago. Even Gimli had not visited the Dwarves' old realm in Mt. Gundabad though he had read and heard extensively about it. Thus, he depended as much on the twins as Legolas did. Their long experience tracking Orcs even in the most hostile of places now served them in good stead as they wended their way through the frozen and barren hillocks and canyons of the Grey Mountains.

Whether astride their steeds on wide pathways or leading the animals through narrow passes, they followed the scanty clues their trained eyes espied here and there. Footprints captured in the now cold, rock-hard soil, distinctly non-orkish in shape and size. Long strands of hair caught on low-lying branches. Torn patches of diaphanous fabric snagged on thorny bushes. As they progressed deeper into the mountains, one thing became ever clearer. More than Orcs had traversed these paths but not one human brigand had yet evinced his existence. Who then other than the goblins called this desolate place home?

On this peril-fraught journey, Gimli proved a most stalwart companion if a vociferous one when it came to impugning the merits of the beast he and Legolas rode. Never having learned to be completely at ease upon a horse, he was understandably annoyed at having to ride one now if only to keep up with his friends. It did not help matters that he did not even have the dubious security of a saddle for his peace of mind since all three Elves, as was the fashion of their kindred, rode bareback and relied not on bit or reins to control their mounts.

However, he was not in the least troubled by the region's isolation or weighed down by its melancholic atmosphere as his companions were. In this he proved most invaluable, raising their spirits by regaling them with one humorous story or another. And of these tales he had a great store. As such they were all in a much lighter frame of mind by the time they reached the quarter mark up the mountains' main trail.

It was not exactly the safest route to take for Orcs used it frequently. But the clues they had so far found led them along this road and so they followed it but with utmost caution. Always one remained on watch while the others rested and never did they relax their guard even for an instant so long as they stayed on this path.

On the fifth night of their journey, they made camp some distance away from the trail for it would be fatally foolhardy to remain close by especially at a time when Orcs were sure to be abroad.

While the others made ready to sleep, Elrohir sought higher ground from which he could view their surroundings. He walked up a low tree-crowned hill several paces away. He was surprised when Legolas joined him.

"You should get some rest," he told his mate.

"I will," Legolas replied. 'But I need to do something first."

"And that is?"

"This."

The Elf-knight gasped as he was suddenly thrust against a sturdy tree and kissed into silence. A moment later, he was shocked when he felt Legolas' fingers swiftly undoing the lacing on his breeches and even more shocked when the prince pressed hard against him and he realized the latter's breeches were already undone. He managed to break the kiss long enough to speak.

"Legolas, why are you doing this?" he whispered roughly.

"What other reason can there be?" the prince retorted. "It has been a week since we last coupled, Aduial, and I am nigh ready to burst!" He hungrily reclaimed the warrior's mouth.

His words had the desired effect of bringing Elrohir's shaft to swift and potent arousal. Yet when Legolas released his lips to nibble at his throat, he made one last stab at rationality.

"I am supposed to be on watch," he protested. Legolas lifted his golden head.

"Not at the moment," he smugly informed him. "I asked Elladan to give us a few minutes together." Elrohir's eyes widened at the archer's brazenness. "So, are you going to cooperate or not?" Legolas purred challengingly.

Elrohir growled, grasped him by the hips and hauled him back. There was no chance for a full coupling here but the warrior was more than talented at other forms of pleasuring. Even as he captured the archer's lips in a pillaging kiss, he wickedly ground their groins together, sliding their turgid lengths against each other in sensual abandon. Jolting bursts of sheer sensation sparked throughout their bodies until Legolas was moaning with the ecstasy of it. He groaned with frustration when the Elf-knight drew away slightly, grey eyes alight with a rakish gleam.

"Ai, do not torment me, Elrohir!" he nearly snarled. "Finish it now!"

With breath-stealing skill, Elrohir complied and before very long Legolas spent himself with a hoarse cry, his seed mingling with the Elf-knight's as the other came to completion on the heels of his. Leaning against the tree for support, Elrohir gathered his prince against him. For a minute or so, they remained thus while awaiting the slowing of their breathing and heartbeats.

At length, Legolas looked up and, with a sweet smile Elrohir had not seen in so very long, stole a kiss from the twin. His smile turned into a satisfied grin.

"_Now_ you're on watch," he said.

Elrohir chuckled and released him. They straightened up and swiftly fastened their breeches, laughing softly at the telltale stains that marked them. After one more deep kiss, Legolas returned to the others. Elrohir watched him vanish into the dark with brightened eyes. He could not deny he was much heartened by his spouse's actions. He settled into his watch with considerably more enthusiasm.

Hours later he hurried down the hill and hastened to the others. For the past several minutes he had been patently uneasy. From his perch, he'd seen nothing suspicious but sensed it he did. Something was wrong and he was not about to wait for it to happen.

He was within shouting distance of the camp when he felt the veriest cold shiver upon his nape. Instinctively he ducked. Just as a black bladed dagger winged across where his head had previously been and embedded itself in the tree to his side. Suddenly, more than two dozen Orcs sprung from the shadows.

"Legolas! Elladan! Gimli!" Elrohir cried out even as he swung his sword at a goblin, cleanly slicing off its head.

Legolas was off his back like a shot, hands fitting arrows to bow in a blur of movement. He took down several of the creatures before he was fully standing.

An Orc pounced on Elladan only to be impaled by the warrior Elf's out thrust sword. Elladan jumped to his feet and slashed swiftly at two more of the creatures, taking off the arm of one and the hand of the other.

Gimli, slower to rise than the Elves, wasted no time stumbling to his feet but grabbed his axe and swung hard at a goblin as it flung itself at him. He had the grim satisfaction of watching its head fly in the opposite direction from its body before applying himself to ridding a few others of their heads or limbs.

The melee was fast and furious. Though surprisingly well-armored and bearing curiously elegant weapons, the Orcs were no match for the Elven warriors and their Dwarf friend. More accustomed to ambushing unwary travelers or raiding poorly defended hamlets, these goblins were ferocious but hardly skilled in combat. In minutes, the small clearing was littered with stinking corpses and various mismatched heads and appendages. The victors took a moment to catch their breaths before moving to sift through the remains to discern if these Orcs had anything to do with their mission.

Elladan lifted one of the enemy swords in puzzlement, ran his fingers over the black breastplate of a fallen goblin.

"This is wrought from galvorn," he remarked. He tossed the sword to Elrohir who examined it with great interest.

"I beg your pardon, but what is galvorn?" Gimli inquired, brow creased in perplexity.

"It was a metal invented by the Elven-smith, Eöl, in the First Age," Elladan explained.

"The First Age!" Gimli echoed with some amazement.

The Elf-lord nodded. "It was as hard as steel even when thin and was ideal for armor." He nudged the Orc on the ground before him with his foot. "Were these goblins more skilled, we would have been hard-put to best them, protected as they were."

"But how did these Orcs get hold of such weapons?" Elrohir wondered, as he admiringly hefted the sword. "Galvorn is all but legend now. The secret of its making is believed to have died with Eöl."

"Perhaps they were plundered from the ruins of your ancient elven cities," Gimli suggested.

"Nay, these are of recent make," Elrohir said. "And the only extant example left of a weapon wrought of this metal in the Elder Days is in Cirdan's Halls at the Grey Havens, left by the last survivors of Gondolin."

"Er, Gondolin?" Gimli repeated. "Forgive me but I know little of your people from those days. Why Gondolin?"

"Eöl was wed to Aredhel, sister of Turgon, king of Gondolin," Elrohir said.

"Was he?" Legolas questioned. "The tale I heard in Greenwood is that he took her by force."

Elladan shrugged. "The truth is lost in the mists of time. But she lived willingly enough with him for many years to give credence to his claim that she was his wife."

"Why did he have to make a claim?" Gimli asked, getting more and more confused.

Taking pity on the Dwarf, Elrohir elucidated the matter more thoroughly. "Eöl was one of Thingol of Doriath's kin who chose not to reside within the Girdle of Melian." When Gimli nodded his comprehension of that part of elven history, he continued. "Aredhel wandered into the forest of Nan Elmoth, which Eöl called home. 'Tis said he lured her to him and took her as wife. More than that no one knows. She bore him a son but later abandoned him and returned to Gondolin with their child. When he followed them and came nigh to the city, he was captured and brought before Turgon. At the time, it was forbidden for anyone who came upon Gondolin to leave the city again lest its location became known to Morgoth. Turgon gave Eöl the choice to remain in the city with his family or face death. He chose death but also attempted to kill his son with a poisoned dart. Aredhel took the dart, sickened and died. And so they threw Eöl from the Caragdûr. 'Tis said that before he fell he cursed his son for having turned against him."

"And that last weapon at the Havens?"

"It belonged to his son, Maeglin," Elladan put in. "Recovered after he was cast from the Caragdûr by Tuor." At Gimli's startled expression, the older twin added: "He betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth and brought about the city's ruin. It seems he nursed a passion for our foremother, Idril, Turgon's daughter."

"But you Elves do not wed with such close kin," Gimli mused.

"Exactly. It was a forbidden passion fed not least by ambition. I wager he hoped to gain the throne of Gondolin by a marriage to his uncle's sole heir. But she married Tuor of the Third House of the Edain and he was frustrated in his desire. It played no small part in his betrayal of his people for he tried to take Idril when she fled the sack of the city with her son by Tuor, our grandsire, Eärendil. But Tuor caught him and they battled on the walls and, at the last, he was thrown down the slopes of the Amon Gwareth as his father had been before him."

Gimli grimaced. "That is a grim tale," he commented. "I had read of Gondolin's fall but not of the treachery that wrought it."

Elladan picked up another sword and swung it experimentally. It was perfectly balanced and wickedly sharp to boot.

"There is another mystery here that needs answering," he said. "An enemy who possesses such knowledge would be formidable."

"What do you think then?" Gimli grunted. "Do these scum have aught to do with the women we seek?"

"Too soon to say," Elrohir replied. "Though the very notion sends a chill up my spine. If these Orcs and those women answer to one master... " He shook his head. "'Tis a daunting thought."

_To be continued_…


	104. Bereth 6 Blow Up

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V: Blow Up  
Abandoning the main trail, which they now deemed much too hazardous despite their need, they made use of the less-travelled byways. Every so often one of the twins would return to the trail to seek clues as to where the non-orkish denizens of the mountains most often headed. A pattern soon emerged and they journeyed in a northeastern direction.

Three days after their encounter with the Orc band, they set up camp in a relatively secure glade far from any of the mountain paths. Here they would rest for a spell and get their bearings. Even the twins needed a respite from relentless tracking. But they still maintained their guard, constantly conscious that they were in enemy territory and an enemy of whom they knew next to nothing at that.

It was on the morning of their second day of encampment that trouble of another sort broke out. Elrohir awoke to find Legolas gone. The prince had taken the last watch of the previous night.

Alarmed, he roused the others and, after a quick perusal of the grounds, swiftly picked up the archer's faint trail. Leaving Elladan and Gimli behind to guard the camp, he raced off. He had not gone far when he saw the archer poised on a high ridge, partially hidden by the bare branches of a stunted tree. He was watching something.

Elrohir sucked in his breath as a half-dozen goblins came into sight. They were hurrying along a narrow track just below, oblivious of the Elf warrior who watched them with cold blue eyes. He gasped as Legolas raised his bow.

Cursing beneath his breath, he sprinted toward the prince, grabbed him by the arm before he could loose his arrow and hauled him down. Legolas could not help a soft startled yelp. Immediately the Orcs stopped and looked up in their direction. Elrohir let out a shrill birdcall, hoping the Orcs would not perceive the difference between it and Legolas' earlier cry. The two Elves lay as still as possible. At length, they heard the Orcs move off, the heavy thuds of their trudging, dragging feet fading into silence.

They stood up and peered carefully about them. There were no Orcs in sight. Elrohir's ruse had worked.

He took Legolas by an arm and pulled him back to the camp. "Valar! What were you thinking?" he demanded. "Why did you come here?"

Legolas frowned, disliking the warrior's brusque manner. "I heard them approaching and thought to waylay them before they discovered our location," he said.

Elrohir scowled. "They were not even aware of our presence. You would have called their attention to it had I not stopped you. That was a needless chance you took, Legolas."

Legolas bristled at the apparent criticism. "I did what I deemed best," he retorted. "I feared they would pass our way and alert the rest of their band. Better to deal with that small number than a whole den's worth!"

"Better not to deal with them at all if we can help it!" Elrohir countered. "We are far from help and 'twould be wiser to avoid any confrontations if we can."

"This from one who took on whole tribes of Orcs in his days of errantry!" Legolas almost taunted.

Elrohir felt his temper begin to flare. "Elladan and I never took on more than we knew we could handle! As you know full well, Legolas!"

"And I could have taken on that pitiful group as _you_ know full well, Elrohir!"

"A witless risk to my mind. I will not have you imperil yourself so readily!"

By now they had reached the camp. Elladan and Gimli looked at them in consternation upon hearing their less than civil exchange. Legolas was in a veritable stew, his pride struck hard by Elrohir's interference. He yanked his arm out of his mate's grip and faced him, eyes flashing angrily.

"I am not a child for you to whisk away at the first whiff of danger!"

"Nor am I a fool to let you plunge into peril mindlessly!"

"I am a warrior, _Edhel_. I will not be treated thusly!"

Elladan rolled his eyes and signaled to Gimli to follow him. The Dwarf stared at him in surprise then worriedly glanced back at the arguing pair.

"We can't leave them like this!" he protested. "Let us make them see reason."

Elladan placed a firm hand on his shoulder and insistently propelled him away from the vicinity.

"Never come between two quarrelling Elves," Elladan grimly advised him. "Especially if one is a Peredhel and the other a Thranduilion."

"But what if Orcs—?"

"We will stand watch. In the meantime, 'tis best to let them have it out." When Gimli still hesitated, he added: "Would you bear witness to what they might say to each other?"

Gimli heaved an exasperated sigh and allowed Elladan to lead him out of earshot of the pair.

Meanwhile, Elrohir and Legolas' verbal battle had not abated one whit. If anything, it seemed in danger of escalating further.

"Our binding does not give you the right to dictate to me what I may or may not do!" Legolas blasted at the twin.

"But it does give me the right to protect you when I feel the need to do so!" Elrohir countered acidly.

Legolas exclaimed vexedly: "Elbereth! How did I ever wind up with a jailer for a binding-mate!"

Elrohir's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You should know, Legolas," he retorted, "since 'twas you who begged that we bind to each other."

Legolas took umbrage at such a charge. "I would never lower myself to beg for anything," he spat irately. "And certainly not from an overbearing, half-breed Elf!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Legolas knew he'd made a potentially fatal mistake. Elrohir's face whitened and his mouth tightened ominously. His eyes blazed with unholy rage. Legolas attempted to stave off the onslaught of the darkling Elf's fury.

"Elrohir, I did not—"

He did not get to finish the sentence. With a snarl, Elrohir tackled him to the ground. Instinctively, he fought back and they rolled on the withered grass, wrestling savagely for mastery.

But Elrohir had the advantage of his anger to aid him. After a brief struggle, he forced Legolas onto his stomach, grabbed his arms and pinioned them at an angle designed to break them if the archer attempted to free himself.

He bore down on the prince, using the full length of his body to pin the other down. Legolas bit back a cry of pain as the ache in his arms worsened from Elrohir's merciless hold on them. He felt the twin's warm breath against his ear, felt the raven tresses brush his nape and cheeks.

"Get off me!" he howled furiously.

"Why, Legolas?" Elrohir hissed tauntingly. "Does it gall you to lie beneath a _half-breed Elf_?"

The archer froze at the bitter words. He attempted to speak. "'Tis not—"

Elrohir cut him off. "Has it been a torment to you all these years, _ernilen_?"—my prince—he seethed. "To be bedded by a mere Peredhel? To be taken by an Elven mongrel, a lowly _adanedhel_?"

Shocked, Legolas protested vehemently. "Nay, that is not so! I – ah, Elrohir, you will break my arm!" he said through gritted teeth.

For an agonizing moment, he thought his left arm would snap. And then, Elrohir abruptly released his arms and got off him in one fluid motion.

Legolas painfully pushed himself off the ground, panting slightly. He glanced at Elrohir. The twin was sitting cross-legged, arms resting loosely on his thighs, his dark head bowed. Tentatively, Legolas reached out to touch him but the Elf-lord pulled back his arm, evading his hand. Vaguely alarmed Legolas crept to him and knelt before him. He stared wordlessly at his mate.

Raw hurt radiated from the Elf-knight's hunched form. Legolas cringed inwardly, regretting his harshly spoken words. What has become of me? I am no better than Melthoron in his arrogant youth, he thought, recalling his once ill-tempered brother's vile tongue. He held his breath when Elrohir raised his head to look at him. His twilight eyes glittered and his cheeks were streaked with silent tears. Legolas could have whipped himself for hurting the Elf-warrior so grievously that he would weep before him.

"I am sorry I hurt you," Elrohir whispered.

Legolas flinched at the apology. He shook his head. "'Tis I who should ask for forgiveness," he said contritely.

Elrohir did not seem to hear him. He lowered his eyes once more, stared unseeingly at his hands.

"Elladan and I were called many things by those who thought themselves our betters," he murmured, his voice low and dull. "They did not trouble me for I cared nothing for their opinion or esteem. But I never thought that you—" He broke off as his voice caught and he shuddered visibly.

"I did not mean it," Legolas said remorsefully. "'Twas my anger that spoke, not my heart."

The darkling Elf heaved a sorrowful sigh. "Bound but for ten years and already you rue it."

Shocked into speechlessness by the allegation, Legolas could only stare at him. He reached out to take Elrohir's hand but again the twin evaded his touch. Legolas exhaled in frustration.

Elrohir looked away, staring into the distance though it was clear he saw nothing. "There is no breaking such a bond in Arda," he continued dispiritedly. "But for you..." He swallowed hard, "I will try to find a way."

The unexpected offer snapped Legolas out of his daze. Consternation coursed through his veins like burning ice.

"Nay, I do not desire that!" he cried, forcibly pulling Elrohir into his arms, refusing to let the twin evade him once more. "Elrohir, I love you!" He pressed his face into the Elvenlord's neck. "Do not speak of cleaving us apart."

He felt Elrohir's arms curl around him but the embrace was tentative, as if the warrior was unsure whether to hold him close. Legolas drew back and gazed at him, anxiously looking for any sign that he had assuaged some of the terrible pain he had inflicted so callously.

The light in the _mithril_-hued eyes was muted, the vibrancy stilled. Love still glowed in their depths but the trust – his Elrohir's trust was profoundly shaken. Legolas cupped his mate's face, wondering how to heal the wound he'd so thoughtlessly dealt.

"Please, Aduial, do not shut me out," he implored. When still the twin failed to respond, he almost sobbed. Pridefully forcing back his treacherous tears, he pleaded: "Forgive me, beloved, forgive me. I did not mean those words. Please, Elrohir, I love you."

Impulsively, he crushed his lips against the Elf-knight's and kissed him with a violence neither had ever thought him capable of. Even Elrohir's pain could not withstand the heat and force of the prince's passion. He moaned when Legolas refused to relinquish his lips, gasped as the archer tore at the clasps of his tunic. He tried to pull away but Legolas pursued him with all the tenacity of a _rÿn_, or hunting hound, on the trail of its prey.

"Legolas, _avo_…"—don't—he entreated, breaking away momentarily. He was silenced by an even more possessive kiss while the archer's hands yanked his tunic from his shoulders and down his arms.

Desperate needs required desperate measures. In the first years of their espousal, Elrohir had led the way in their couplings more oft than not. But that had changed in recent years as was evident now. Legolas seized the role, exerting his mastery, forcing his desire upon the Elf-rider. He wanted to erase the anguish of his brutal words, longed to bridge the yawning chasm that had opened between them and seemed to widen with every passing second. But after such a primal confrontation, only something equally elemental would breach the walls of Elrohir's resistance. He bore the warrior down, marshalling all his elven strength to subdue him.

Without breaking their kiss, he reached between their bodies and tugged at the lacing of the twin's breeches. Feeling the loosening of his clothing, Elrohir managed to free his mouth from Legolas' demanding custody.

"Nay, I cannot do this," he protested, struggling to get out from under the archer.

Legolas pinned him down by sheer force of will. "Do not fight me," he pleaded roughly. "Let me love you. Please, Elrohir."

Elrohir stared at the prince uncertainly, reluctant to render himself vulnerable in the wake of the latter's unbidden verbal assault. Love battled it out with pride for primacy. He drew in a shaky breath as the prince pressed kisses to his damp cheeks and nuzzled his neck. In the end, his love for Legolas won. It always will, he thought helplessly.

Resignedly, he lay back, unresisting. With swift, able hands, Legolas divested him of his remaining clothes then stripped himself bare as well. With their raiment shielding his mate from the chill ground, the prince began an assault of another sort, bent on reclaiming the Elvenlord, intent on making their bodies one. He maintained a relentless pace, withholding even a moment's respite from Elrohir lest the twin retreat from him anew. What he lacked in long experience, he more than made up for in gut-feel and remorse-driven passion.

Elrohir gasped as the archer's lips and teeth left yet another crimson mark on his flesh, joining the myriad others randomly scattered on his throat, shoulders, chest and abdomen. More made their appearance on the creamy skin of his groin and thighs. When Legolas took him into his mouth, he groaned from the sheer acuteness of the sensation. The archer suckled him rapaciously, almost forcibly awakening his body. Pure pleasure blurred his thoughts, blunted his will. But even as he felt his body surge to life, he knew he could not bear to be brought to release in this manner. It made him feel too completely at the prince's mercy and this he could not endure. Not now. Not when he felt so fragile within.

He reached down desperately, saying beseechingly, "Legolas, not like this, please. I cannot..."

Instinctively, Legolas understood his plea. Though he regretted foregoing the chance of bringing Elrohir to completion thus, he also knew it would only undo what he had so far achieved. Breathing raggedly, he moved between Elrohir's thighs, lifted the twin's hips and sheathed himself completely within the Elf-knight, melding their slender, powerful forms into searing union. For several moments, all that existed for them was the shared symphony of their impassioned outbursts, the harmony of their pounding hearts and the counterpoint of their writhing loins.

Their coupling was as fierce and blistering as their fight had been. It needed to be for just as they eased their furies and expended their energies on the fields of battle, so now did they need to resolve their differences and spend their raging emotions in another arena.

Overwhelmed by the crashing, unrestrained waves of Legolas' spiraling rapture that swept over and through his body, Elrohir swiftly found his release, the force of it buffeting his lean bulk, partially winding him in its intensity. A bare second later, Legolas came to explosive completion as well, spending himself deep within the younger twin. After a few moments' reprieve, the prince slowly eased himself from his mate. And then, to Elrohir's astonishment, he leaned down and licked the Elf-lord's taut belly clean of his seed.

Only then did he creep up to lie beside the darkling Elf, insistently drawing him into the circle of his arms. Elrohir's eyes were closed, his mouth trembling though he strove to still it. Legolas brushed his own mouth gently against the quivering lips. The caress stilled the trembling and the Elf-knight opened his eyes to look at his golden spouse.

"Please tell me you forgive me," Legolas whispered, his eyes imploring. "I will beg this of you if you demand it."

Elrohir drew in a shuddering breath. "I would never allow you to bring yourself so low as to beg," he said.

"Let me hear the words then," the prince murmured anxiously. "Assure me that I have not lost your love this day."

Elrohir regarded him somberly. For the dreadful space of a heartbeat, Legolas thought that what he feared had already come to pass. But then the twilight pools softened and the tense mouth relaxed somewhat.

"I told you I would never cease to love you," he quietly reminded the archer. When Legolas continued to gaze at him pleadingly, he murmured: "Aye, I forgive you."

Nearly swooning in heartfelt relief, Legolas held tight to his mate. He did not delude himself that all was right between them. With one fell swoop, he had crippled the trust they had built over most of the last age. In his oblivious spite, he had revealed to the twin a side he himself had not even realized he possessed; the knowledge gutted him to the core. It would take time before Elrohir fully trusted him once more.

_He deemed me worthy of him yet I have just proven how undeserving I am of his noble heart_. Legolas felt tears of shame and apprehension sting his eyes though he stubbornly hid them from the raven-haired Elf.

For uncounted years, Elrohir had loved him without condition, both his perfections and his flaws, even when he had hurt him in his thickheaded refusal to accept that love. But Elrohir had known his fears, understood his reluctance and patiently borne his misguided attempts to escape the trap of his own unacknowledged love for the Elf-knight.

This was different. He had deliberately struck at his binding-mate, knowing he would draw blood, nay, counted on it. He guiltily admitted to himself that had not the Elf-lord been roused to such a fearsome rage, he would have savored the effects of his well-aimed blow. He felt shriveled inside from the baseness of his previous intentions.

_What if this has tainted me in his eyes_? Legolas could not bear to even think of the consequences.

oOoOoOo

Elladan and Gimli waited in the small clearing to which they had retreated while the pair tussled. Elladan stood quietly to one side. But Gimli could not keep still and fidgeted and paced and demanded every few minutes what in Durin's name was happening.

At length, Elladan let out a rather weary breath. He looked at Gimli, his countenance grave and troubled.

"They are done. Let us go back," he quietly said.

"How do you—?" Gimli stopped then grunted. "Ah, you sense your brother's feelings, don't you?" At Elladan's nod, he said: "I wonder how they settled their argument."

"With swordplay," Elladan softly replied.

Gimli stared at the Elf-lord in shock. "What? And we left them to it?" he nearly sputtered. "Confound it, Peredhel, they could have killed each other!"

Elladan turned sage eyes on him. "Not all swords kill, Master Gimli."

Gimli stared at him uncomprehendingly at first. Then enlightenment came upon him and his mouth formed an 'o'. His ruddy cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Dratted Elves," he muttered as he followed Elladan back to the camp.

Glosssary:  
Peredhel – Half-elf, Half-elven  
adanedhel – man-Elf

_To be continued_…


	105. Bereth 7 Fraying Edges

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI: Fraying Edges  
The day passed awkwardly for the quartet but weighed most heavily on Legolas.

He was acutely aware that he had not managed to bridge the gap that had opened up between him and Elrohir. The Elf-knight now kept aloof from him, emotionally if not physically. Not that Legolas blamed him. He had uttered words that had struck at the very heart of their relationship and thus given Elrohir reason to doubt him. His subsequent actions had not been anything less than reprehensible. Now, with his mind cool and lucid once more, he reviewed what he had done and cringed at its sordidness.

What had he been thinking when he took Elrohir after having so demeaned him? True, his mate had yielded but what else could he have done in the face of Legolas' insistent overtures? Reject him? Elrohir had never been one to turn him away when he was in need.

That was what smote him hardest. It had been his need that had been answered, not Elrohir's. He'd gained the warrior's forgiveness and assurances of love. But what had Elrohir received in turn? The archer sighed dolefully. In his panic, he had not taken the time to weigh his actions. He had wanted to prove his love to Elrohir but he had hardly chosen the most advisable way. There were times when wounds could not be mended by the joining of two bodies. He should have realized that before forcing his desire upon his spouse.

He would have to bide his time until Elrohir saw fit to trust him again. He could only pray it would not take too long for his mate's distance hurt him grievously.

His sense of isolation was further aggravated by Elladan's wary demeanor around him. Legolas knew that Elrohir would never betray the details of their quarrel to anyone, not even his twin. The days when they had openly shared everything were no more now that they were both espoused. There were certain matters that had to remain in confidence between binding-mates alone and the brethren observed this constraint as assiduously as when they had confided in each other. But the bond between them remained strong and they oft knew the other's feelings or thoughts because of it. Elladan would not know the exact nature of Legolas' transgression against his brother but he would have sensed that there _had_ been one and would therefore respond accordingly. In this case, that meant being as mistrustful of Legolas as Elrohir now was.

If not for Gimli, he would have felt utterly alone. Not for the last time was he grateful for his Dwarf friend's company.

They broke camp at first light the following day and were soon on the trail of their prey once more. But unlike before, the brethren seemed grimmer and more taciturn. Not even Gimli could pierce the shroud of reticence that enfolded them for long. This served to dishearten Legolas further.

It would have been easy for him to believe that, despite Elrohir's claim to the contrary, the Elf-knight had ceased to care for him. Even during the worst times of their tension-fraught relationship in the past two years, he'd always left the door to reconciliation wide open. But now, it seemed no longer the case. The woodland prince struggled with a burgeoning fear that the door was slowly closing. Indeed, he'd have thought it shut already in the light of Elrohir's demeanor with him. Except...

Every once in long while, Elrohir would look at him. And though his eyes were now hooded as they had never been before, he could not hide what lay deep in his heart. It glimmered still in the innermost reaches of those twilight pools though its brightness had been dimmed by hurt and disillusionment.

He still loves me, Legolas told himself almost desperately. He had to believe that Elrohir did.

He refused to think of what would become of him should that doom come to pass. That after all these centuries, the love that had succored him so tenderly even when he had not known it should now be withdrawn. And there would be no one to blame but himself.

In the days that followed, he took on more than his share of duties. He extended his hours on watch, sometimes even taking on whole nights instead of waking anyone for a turn. He saw to their steeds whenever the twins headed out on foot to track their elusive quarry. And he insisted on seeing to their supplies, hunting on his own here and then to add to their spartan stores. Anything and everything to ease the ache that troubled his heart whenever he reached out to Elrohir with his spirit only to receive a gentle but firm rebuff.

Their bond was still in place but it was shaky at best. He guarded it relentlessly, watchful for any sign of further weakening. Matrimonial bonds could not be broken but they could be damaged to the point of hollowness.

Each night, as he lay by Elrohir's side, he longed to reach over and hold his mate in his arms. But he could not disregard the warrior's tacit reluctance to be held or even touched by him. As his confidence of Elrohir's love eroded, so did his sense of security in their relationship flag. It did not take long for him to begin to despair that he had irrevocably ruined what they shared. But his innate tenacity refused to allow him to give up hope and so he clung to the tenuous strands of affection he could still sense radiating from his distant spouse.

The fifth night descended accompanied by the coldest weather they had yet experienced. For several days now, the temperature had been steadily dropping. The chill climate had troubled the Elves little thus far and Gimli, hardy as he was, had needed only his thickest jacket to stave off its worst effects. But they were all disturbed anew by the lack of snow or even frost despite the plunging temperature. Here up high there should have been ice at the very least yet this was not so. For the first time, they began to consider the possibility of a connection between this strange winter and their present mission.

It seemed sorcery was at work. Dark sorcery.

"The passes and paths remain clear as do the roads below," Elrohir commented as they discussed the matter before taking their rest.

They were seated around a small fire, the first they had stoked since their ascent into the mountains. It was for Gimli's sake for the Dwarf, while admirably resistant, was at last feeling just the least bit chilled. At least, they were camped in a hollow surrounded by boulders and gaunt leafless trees and the glow of the fire could only be faintly discerned from without.

"Mayhap that is the intent for the lack of ice and snow," Elladan mused. He pulled out a few pieces of the diaphanous fabric they had found along the way. "Blocked passes and trails would hinder not only the predators but their prey as well."

"Traffic on the northern roads have been higher of late than in previous years," Legolas said in a hushed voice.

"Aye, and the attacks only began very recently," Elladan said. "Whoever or whatever is behind them has taken care to ensure that the victims could be taken with ease despite winter's onset."

"Not to mention in greater than expected numbers," Gimli grumbled. "Even my kindred were not spared!" He glanced at the Elves. "But no Elf has thus been slain yet it seems."

Legolas shook his head. "None so far. We may very well prove the first," he added grimly.

He started when he felt a firm hand grasp his thigh, imparting fortitude with a slight squeeze. He looked at Elrohir who sat nigh to his side, almost not daring to hope that the Elf-knight had opened up to him for at least this moment. His hope was rewarded by the flash of argent eyes regarding him gravely. But gently.

Before Elrohir could withdraw his hand, he quickly clasped it in his and held it there, relishing the warm touch upon his leg. The warrior gazed at him with veiled eyes but Legolas glimpsed the still flickering affection in the grey wells. It vastly comforted him.

As was his wont of late, he insisted on taking the first watch. The others reluctantly agreed, aware he could very well stay on guard the whole night. But in this Elrohir voiced his disapproval.

"Wake me, Legolas," he said. "I will not have you wearing yourself out again." When the archer would have demurred, he placed two fingers against his lips. "Wake me," he repeated.

The intimate sensation of the Elf-rider's fingers upon his lips effectively silenced the prince. He nodded then wordlessly left to do his duty.

It was but a few hours later that Elrohir awoke. Much too soon to take his turn at sentry duty. What had roused him?

Unable to sleep any further he decided to relieve Legolas instead. Rising, he caught up his sword and headed for the archer's position. But he grew uneasy when he neared it and Legolas was nowhere to be seen. It was then that he heard the faint sounds of strife further on. Concerned, he hurried towards the source of tumult.

His concern was well founded.

Little more than a few yards away, Legolas was engaged in a bruising fight with three goblins. The archer looked quite capable of dispatching them on his own but Elrohir was of no mind to take chances. Hesitating only a moment to touch his sleeping brother's mind, he plunged into the fray and downed one with so savage a blow to its neck that the snapping of it was loud enough to hear. By now Legolas had gutted one of his opponents and hewed the feet out from under the other. With a swift downward stab of his sword he slew the legless orc.

Before either Elf had a chance to catch his breath, a swarm of orcs converged on them. One launched itself at them only to scream in pain when an arrow struck it full in its throat. Elrohir had a moment to grin as Elladan and Gimli showed up, the Dwarf obviously spoiling for a fight.

As before the orcs were well protected and armed. But again, they were not of the same caliber as the goblins Sauron and Saruman had employed in the Great War. These were ambushers and pillagers, not true soldiers of war. Nonetheless, they were formidable in numbers and strength if not in skill. They were not to be taken for granted.

Elrohir espied one orc as it broke ranks and sped away. With a scowl, he raced after it. They could not afford to let even one of the creatures escape anymore than they could afford to be captured. Surprise was their best weapon at the moment and he was of no mind to let this foul creation of Morgoth's carry tales to its master whoever he may be.

One of the fleetest of the Firstborn of Middle-earth, he easily caught up with the orc. Though obviously no match for the Elf-lord in pure skill, the creature fought back with sheer brutality. In that, it was a force to reckon with and Elrohir had to bring all his power and strength to bear to subdue his opponent.

At last, he overcame the orc, knocking its black sword from its clawed hand and tripping it so that it fell to its knees. Attempting to rise, the goblin went utterly still as it felt the cold of sharp steel against the leathery skin of its neck. The creature, faced with a sword to its vulnerable throat, cravenly sued for mercy.

Eyeing it warily, Elrohir demanded that the orc tell him who its master was.

"Lomion," the creature rasped. "Its name is Lomion."

"It?" Elrohir snapped. "Do you not know if your master is man or woman?"

"It is impossible to tell," the orc said. "It changes. We do not know what it is."

Puzzled, Elrohir nevertheless continued to question his captive. "Where is its stronghold? Speak!" he commanded when the orc hesitated.

"High in the mountains near the eastern pass," the creature finally answered. "A black fortress with high walls and a great tower."

"Does Lomion not fear the cold-drakes in the mountains?" Elrohir said. "That is perilously close to where they lie if they still live."

The orc cackled. "Worms are no more," it spat out. "It took care of them all right."

Elrohir narrowed his eyes in disbelief. The cold-drakes had driven the Dwarves from the Ered Mithrin. What power did this Lomion possess that would enable him to destroy them? He wondered if the orc was telling the truth or not.

"What of the women?"

"Women?"

"The women who have been preying on travellers along the northern roads."

"Don't know what you're babbling about!" It yelped as the blade pressed in enough to draw blood. "Lomion's pets! They're his, aye!"

"How do they kill their victims?"

The orc could not help snortling with malicious glee. "Suck them dry," it crowed. "Drains them."

Elrohir frowned. "They feed on them?" he demanded, revulsion mingling with incredulity.

"Not on _them_," the orc retorted contemptuously. "On their _lives_."

Elrohir stared in utter horror at the now evilly grinning creature. "Their lives," he repeated. "You mean their life's force?" he added in spiralling shock.

"Aye, now you've got it. Not so bright for an Elf, are you?" the orc sneered. "Couldn't figure it out on your own."

Elrohir scowled but refused to be provoked into a careless rage. Straightening, he released the creature, sheathing his sword. He stepped back from his foe.

"Very well, then," he snapped. "Be gone and never return to these parts if you value your wretched life."

He turned his back on the cowering orc. In that instant, the creature suddenly grabbed its fallen sword and lunged forward aiming a murderous blow at the Elf-lord. Elrohir spun around, his arm swinging out in a graceful, lethal arc. His stroke neatly sliced the orc's throat open.

It sank to its knees in shock and stared open-mouthed at the Elf. Elrohir glared back at it, his grey eyes cold and merciless.

"You did not really think that I would trust you, did you?" he calmly said. It was so much better when these creatures gave one a reason to kill them.

The orc toppled over onto its face, its dark blood forming a pool around its head. Elrohir slammed his sword back into its sheath and turned to rejoin the others.

Legolas was the first to mark his return. The Wood-elf hastened to him, blue eyes anxious.

"What happened?" he asked. "We lost sight of you and—" He broke off, patently shaken.

Elrohir placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I only followed a goblin that sought to flee. I did not think it wise to let it get word of our presence to its master."

"You slew it then," Elladan ascertained.

"Aye, and more." Swiftly he recounted what the orc had revealed to him under duress.

Their shock was understandable as he related the nature of the women's manner of killing their victims. They found it as repulsive and horrifying as he had. But when he revealed the name of their nemesis, Elladan suddenly turned paler than he'd ever thought possible.

"_Gwaniuar!_ What is it?" he demanded worriedly.

The older twin shook his head dazedly. "You must be mistaken. That could not have been his name."

"The creature uttered it quite clearly. Elladan, what is wrong? Why should that name discomfit you so?"

"Ai, _gwanneth_, have you forgotten who bore it?"

Elrohir stared at him in puzzlement for several seconds before his eyes widened in disbelief. "Nay, 'tis not possible. He has been dead for more than two ages of this world!"

"Precisely! 'Tis why I questioned you."

Gimli interrupted impatiently. "What are you talking about? Who is dead?"

Elladan let out a shaky breath. "Only one Elf ever carried that name. Lomion was Aredhel's name for her son, Maeglin."

Legolas started. "How do you know this?"

"We heard it from Father and he in turn learned of it from a few of the survivors of Gondolin who came to Lindon. They'd had occasion to hear her call him by that name."

"But how can this Lomion and Maeglin be one and the same?" Elrohir objected. "He died in that fall; struck the mountainside several times before pitching into the flames below. There were witnesses to this. Glorfindel saw it happen with his very own eyes!"

"I have no explanation for such an impossible occurrence," Elladan admitted. "But if Lomion is indeed Maeglin, that means he survived that terrible fall against all odds."

They stared at each other in deep perturbation. If their foe was indeed Eöl's son returned, his very existence begged a host of puzzling question. How _had_ he survived that fall? And how he had subsisted all these millennia they could not even begin to imagine. But subsisted it seemed he had, and now had emerged a perilous adversary and a terrible threat to all.

Glossary:  
gwaniuar – older twin  
gwanneth – younger twin

_To be continued_…


	106. Bereth 8 Snare

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII: Snare  
They came to a rocky trail that made riding difficult. Their horses were hard-pressed to keep from stumbling as large loose pebbles constantly gave way under their hooves. Dismounting. they led their steeds along the narrow track, gingerly guiding the understandably skittish animals. At length the path began to climb up a steep incline and they were perforce compelled to take turns ascending it.

Elladan went first with his mount followed by Gimli. Elrohir was just moving forward, coaxing his horse along, when Legolas stopped him.

The archer had been brooding all morning, feeling his mate's reticence more sharply than ever. Elrohir had briefly opened up to him just two evenings ago but had since retreated behind his taciturnity anon. It grated on Legolas' nerves, unused as he was to being cut off from the Elf-knight's loving regard. It had come to a point where he could no longer hold his tongue.

Furthermore, a vague foreboding had been steadily growing within him. Like all his kindred, he possessed to some degree the gift of foresight. While not as blessed as those of Elrond's house, he could and did sense when good or ill was in the offing. Now was one of those instances and though the twins did not seem to feel as he did, he was convinced trouble lurked close by.

He did not desire this distance between them when Eru only knew what awaited them. Come what may, he had to know whether he still stood a chance of winning back the full measure of Elrohir's affections.

"Please, Aduial, can we talk?" he pleaded.

Elrohir looked up the incline. Gimli was almost at the top.

"About what?" he asked, eyes still on the Dwarf.

"About what happened," Legolas said. "What I said and..." He sighed guiltily as Elrohir turned his attention to him. "I did not mean it, Elrohir. Twas only because I was so..."

"Angry," Elrohir finished for him. "Aye, I know."

Legolas peered at him trying to read the impassive argent eyes. "You said you forgave me," he reminded the twin.

"I did forgive you," Elrohir replied evenly.

"Yet you remain so aloof from me," Legolas said. "And show me so little trust besides. How can I believe that you have pardoned me?"

Elrohir paused then gravely regarded the prince. "You are right," he conceded. "I forgave you your anger that drove you to utter such ill-spoken words. But I do not trust you as I once did."

Legolas felt the sting of his mate's admission keenly. He gritted his teeth in frustration. "Can you not forget what happened?" he queried in desperation.

"Forget?" Elrohir sounded quite incredulous. "And will you have me forget your egregious demeanor with me these past two years as well!"

Legolas was nearly rendered speechless. "My— What do you mean?" he demanded apprehensively.

Elrohir let out an exasperated breath. By now, Gimli had reached the top of the path and was disappearing from his sight. "This is hardly the time to discuss this," he snipped and made to follow the Dwarf.

Legolas began to boil within. "Then when is the time?" he challenged, grabbing the warrior's arm. "When we are both dead and languishing in the Halls of Awaiting?"

"Legolas, please, we will speak of this later," Elrohir said dismissively.

He gasped when the archer suddenly pushed him rather brusquely against the bare rock of the cliff side. "Now, Elrohir," Legolas growled. "Before we face whatever evil lies beyond, I want to know where I stand with you!"

The Elvenlord's eyes blazed of a sudden, his patience giving out. "You want!" he retorted. "I should not be surprised for that is all you ever cared about. And seldom considered my needs while you were at it."

Legolas stared at him, aghast. "What—?"

Elrohir was seething. "'Tis always what you want, what you need, what you desire!" he spat. "When have you thought to ask what _I_ might want?"

The archer was shocked. He had never seen Elrohir thusly in all their years together. The warrior did not bother to mince his words.

"You accepted my attentions only when it suited you, spurned my attempts to protect you, balked when I so much as asked what you were about!" he hissed. "Yet you scarcely gave me solace in return. A loving word or a soothing touch at the end of the day was all I craved but even those you more oft than not denied me. Only in bed did you deign to show me some affection and even then 'twould only be until you had spent yourself!"

Struck dumb, Legolas did not think anything could be more hurtful than Elrohir's tirade. Until the twin's next words proved him woefully wrong.

"You are a wonderful _seron_, Legolas,"—lover—the Elf-knight ground out. "But as a _bereth_ you leave much to be desired."

With that, he abruptly thrust Legolas away, grabbed hold of his mount and went up the mountain path after Elladan and Gimli.

Legolas stared after him, breathing heavily and painfully. Then gritting his teeth, he hurried after him.

The path led onto a wide level stretch, barren for the most part but for a few straggling bushes, mostly bereft of greenery. But a thick wood loomed beyond, the surprisingly hardy trees still clinging to much of their foliage. As he caught sight of his companions, Legolas swallowed his impulse to assail Elrohir once more. He could hardly reopen their argument in front of Elladan and Gimli.

Just as he approached them, they heard a moaning cry. Startled, they all turned to see a woman fall to her knees as she emerged from the forest. She was clothed in naught but a badly rent gown, her hair loose upon her shoulders and back, and she looked pale and tired and lost.

Gimli gave a soft shout and began to walk to her, his instinct to give assistance overriding caution. But Elladan held him back.

"Wait, _meldiren_"—my friend—he cautioned. "Let us first learn what she is doing here. This is no place for a woman and even less for a lone one."

He neared her but still kept some distance between them. The woman looked up at him beseechingly.

"Help me," she pleaded. "Get me away from here, I beg of you."

Elladan frowned uneasily. "What do you flee from, my lady?" he queried.

"From the feeders."

"Feeders?"

"They who feast on the life force of beings."

The statement was enough to send shivers up their spines. Legolas came to Elladan's side.

"How did you come to be here?" he softly inquired. "Were you taken here?"

She did not answer but rose to her feet and sought to approach him and Elladan. When they backed away, she said: "Why do you fear me? I ask for aid and you retreat before me."

She looked at each of them entreatingly. It was when she laid eyes on Elrohir that the younger twin gasped and recoiled from her stare.

"'Tis her!" he exclaimed. "The one I glimpsed in the dead man's thoughts! Beware, she brought him to his death!"

In that instant of recognition, the woman underwent a startling transformation. She cast off the rags of her raiment, revealing a gauzy grey gown that clung to a lissome white body. It became all too apparent just how she had lured her victim into her arms and to his death. But while the three Elves and Gimli acknowledged her allure, they had no liking for it, knowing as they did that she was one of the creatures they had been tracking.

She had apparently comprehended their immunity to her charms from the start for she made no attempt at seduction of any kind. As they cautiously watched her, her countenance altered, her skin paling to bone-white and her eyes losing all color or detail until nothing but black wells stared out at them. She emitted a piercing feral shriek.

Of a sudden, others like her appeared from the cover of the wood, swiftly moving to encircle the four. A score in all, they were also clad in grey, almost transparent gowns that had been obviously created for the purpose of temptation rather than to lend warmth. Indeed, the women did not seem to feel the hostile wind that whipped through the clearing.

Their wicked intent notwithstanding, the very nature of their origins left the four in a quandary. They had no doubts now that these must have been among the women abducted from years ago, transformed by the blackest of arts into creatures of death. Did they deserve death themselves when they had not sought to become what they now were?

Their dilemma was readily resolved when one of the creatures pounced on Gimli without warning. Instinctively, the Dwarf swung his axe at her, ripping open her belly. The woman collapsed. But to his and the others' disbelief, no blood poured from the terrible wound. And to their consternation, even as the others began to close in on them, she only lay for a few minutes before rising once more to her feet and joining her sisters in what looked to be a feeding frenzy.

There was no longer room for ethics or compassion. This was a matter of survival.

"We must get away from here!" Elladan shouted to the others. "'Tis fruitless to fight them if they do not bleed!"

"Yet even they must recover from their wounds," Legolas growled and demonstrated his point by lopping off the reaching arm of one of their assailants. Sure enough, she staggered back, clutching at the stump of her arm and took some minutes to return to the fray.

They had no choice but to hack their way through and even then it was not as simple as they might have hoped. The creatures were agile and, while seemingly immune to mortal wounds, evaded their blades as much as possible. And those they did injure recovered swiftly and rejoined their sisters and so the four were often cut off in their forward progress towards the forest beyond. But they forced their way through, holding the women at bay, ever conscious of the grisly fates of the humans who had encountered them.

It was when they had almost reached the edge of the clearing and the hoped for safety of the wood that the unthinkable happened.

Elrohir was the first to break out of the deadly circle but he refused to leave the others. Taking a quick look around, he saw one woman launch herself at Legolas' unprotected back. Without a moment's hesitation he raced back, flinging his knife at the creature, pinning her arm to a nearby tree. But his rescue of his mate cost him.

A figure crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. A foot came down brutally on his hand forcing him to let go of his sword, which was then swiftly kicked away. Before he could get his bearings, he was straddled and icy hands gripped his face and forced him to look at she who had downed him. In the next moment, indescribable pain and cold lanced through him to his very bones. It was as if a multitude of daggers sliced at his very nerves while an arctic stream flowed through his veins. He cried out, grabbed at the creature and tried to push her off him. But she proved startlingly powerful and he could not make her budge. And the unbearable pain and cold continued to wrack his body.

He felt it then. The drain on his elven flame. Understood she was sucking from him the very essence of his life's energy. And he could do nothing to stop it. He vaguely heard the others' cries, saw through his rapidly blurring vision Legolas desperately trying to fight his way to him. He thought then that this was the end for him.

But just when he was on the verge of losing consciousness, the creature suddenly gave a shuddering cry, the blackened wells of her eyes widening in patent agony. Her grip on him loosened and the steady drain on his life's force faltered and, unbelievably, he actually felt some of it flow back into him. Desperately, he flung out his arms, groping for anything he might use as a weapon. His right hand came upon a broken branch. With all his remaining strength, he grasped it and rammed one end into the woman's neck.

She did not even cry out. Simply stared at him in shock then toppled over. And stayed there.

Elladan saw and comprehended the significance of his brother's deed. He began to aim his strokes at the women's throats, slicing them open or decapitating them outright. None rose again to renew their attack.

It did not take long for Legolas and Gimli to follow his lead. In a matter of minutes, it was over.

They ran to Elrohir who still lay motionless upon the withered grass. Elladan reached him first and gathered his twin into his arms.

"_Gwanneth!_"—younger twin!—he rasped. "How do you fare? Tell me what you feel!"

Elrohir moved his head feebly to rest on his brother's chest.

"So...c-cold," he stuttered. "Weak..."

Legolas took his hand and gasped at the iciness of it. "We must get him warm," he said urgently.

Elladan briskly pulled the ends of his brother's cloak around his shivering form, snugly wrapping him in the mantle's thick folds. He held Elrohir tightly to himself, hoping his body heat would alleviate some of his twin's discomfort.

"We cannot remain here," he grimly said. "Get the horses. We must leave before any others come upon us."

Legolas called back their scattered steeds. Taking a second to retrieve Elrohir's knife and sword, the archer quickly mounted his horse then reached out his arms for the Elf-knight. For a tense moment, Elladan hesitated to yield his brother to the prince, his earlier distrust welling anew. But then he sighed and rose, easily lifting Elrohir in his arms, and gave his twin into the care of the latter's mate.

Legolas pulled Elrohir close, holding him securely in his arms, letting the twin rest his woozy head against his neck. He only waited for Elladan to mount as well and pull Gimli up behind him before he urged his horse onward. They retreated into the deeps of the neighboring forest.

Glossary:  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
seron – lover

_To be continued_…


	107. Bereth 9 Finding Solace

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VIII: Finding Solace  
The forest spanned several acres of mountainside and they rode until they reached its easternmost bounds. Only then did they stop and set up camp. By now it was afternoon and they were all somewhat weary in spirit if not in body. Save for Elrohir who was near drained of both.

Legolas only reluctantly released him into his brother's arms when they came to a halt.

It had galled him when Elladan had hesitated to hand Elrohir over to him though he could not blame him. Elladan's demeanor had then worried him that the younger twin might balk at having to ride with him. But to his relief, Elrohir had willingly stayed with him, even sinking into his embrace and dozing off as their pace quickened. Whether it was from love or only sheer exhaustion, the archer did not really care. All that had mattered was that he could hold Elrohir once more after so many lonely days and nights.

And then he had been thrilled to the very core of his being when, as they approached the edge of the forest, Elrohir had lifted his head and brushed pliant lips against his. So elated had he been and needful of the Elf-knight's loving that he had chased after the retreating lips and, upon capturing them had urgently parted them and hungrily tasted what he had been forced to forego in the wake of their shocking fight. Was it any wonder that he now rued having to let his mate go?

They found a shallow basin well hidden by trees wherein they could settle down for the rest of the day. There they built a blazing fire for Elrohir and laid him down by it. He slipped into deep slumber almost at once, which had Gimli anxiously fussing over him lest he fall into the oblivious repose of his kinsmen. But it proved a normal sleep and a replenishing one to everyone's relief. When he awoke just after sundown, he seemed much refreshed and could sit up unaided and partake of a light meal though he still suffered from cold and fatigue.

It was only then that they questioned him as to what had been done to him. One thing in particular immediately caught their attention.

"Are you certain that she was in pain?" Elladan pressed.

"Very certain," Elrohir replied. "She loosened her hold on me and ceased to drain me. 'Twas how I managed to slay her."

"And you say you could feel some of your life's force returning."

"Aye, as if she could not hold it in and allowed it to flow back through the channel she opened between us."

Gimli exclaimed at that. "Then that would explain my kinsmen's survival," he said. "Though not why they were so drained as to be forced into unconsciousness but not enough to kill them."

Legolas frowned as he turned the puzzle over in his mind. He heard Gimli add: "Perhaps it does have to do with our being of different races. We are after all more enduring than men and much stronger besides."

"Not to mention longer-lived," Legolas suddenly suggested.

Elrohir looked at him in interest. "That is a thought," he said in a hushed voice. "Dwarves live three to four times as long as the average human. That would certainly explain why your kinsmen did not die, Gimli, but were simply drained to exhaustion." He sat up straighter, twilight eyes gleaming with excitement. "A Dwarf's life force may be simply too much for any one feeder to consume."

"And even more impossible with an immortal being," Elladan murmured. "No matter what she had become, she was still of mortal origins and could not sustain her consumption of your eternal flame."

"Then this is not so great a peril as we previously thought," Gimli said. "Since they cannot prey on you Elves, you can go after them and destroy them."

Elladan shook his head. "They can still weaken us. Witness what that woman did to Elrohir. Had more than one attacked him..."

"And there is still the matter of our missing women," Elrohir reminded them all. "Mayhap a mortal cannot take on an Elf but what of our own transformed into those abominations?"

Legolas gasped in horror. "One would be a match for any number of Elves. As it is, those women were already much too swift and agile for my liking."

"And impossibly strong as well," Elrohir added. "I could not make her loosen her hold on me."

"But we know their weakness," Gimli pointed out. "It should be a simple matter to dispatch them."

"If they remain thus clothed," Legolas mused. "There has been no need to shield them so far as none knew their intent and even less their one weakness. But should Lomion choose to launch an open assault, would he not take care to protect them?"

"With armor wrought from galvorn," Elladan agreed. "Aye, that he would."

"Well reasoned, Legolas," Elrohir quietly commended his mate. The prince could not help beaming in pleasure to hear his Elf-knight's praise.

"Our women were among the last to be taken," he remarked. "And none have yet appeared. Is it possible they have not been altered?"

"After all these years?" Elladan said doubtfully. "'Tis more likely they have either not completed their transformation or Lomion is holding them back for some other purpose." He paused. "I am more inclined to believe they are still not--ready for release," he said at length. "As you say, they were among the last to be taken. And thus far it seems only human women have been unleashed upon us. Mayhap whatever process is used to change them is not all that swift."

"Mayhap," Elrohir said. He scowled. "What Lomion has wreaked on these women is the most heinous of violations. I would end his designs _and_ him soonest!" Even as he spoke, a profusion of sharp chills ran through his body and he half-gasped at the sensation.

"Are you very chilled?" Gimli worriedly asked, noting how the younger twin drew his cloak closer about him.

Elrohir nodded. "Though not as cold as when that creature assailed me."

"It will probably diminish when you regain your strength," the Dwarf suggested.

"Probably."

"You are weary anon, _muindor_"—brother—Elladan urged. "Lie and take more rest."

Elrohir sighed heavily and, too tired to protest, did as he was bid. His lassitude was soon evinced by his swift return to slumber.

Elladan eyed him with concern. "I pray we do not encounter more of them while he is this weak," he remarked.

"What do you think, Elladan?" Gimli inquired. "Has Lomion already discovered us? That was a trap if ever I saw one."

"I cannot say," Elladan admitted. "I hope not. They may simply have been on their way down the mountains to hunt more victims and upon marking our arrival in that clearing devised a hasty trap for us. I fervently hope that is the case. So long as Lomion remains unaware of our presence we stand a better chance of approaching his stronghold."

"You mean for us to destroy it on our own," Legolas said, eyes glinting in the firelight.

Elladan's countenance was grave. "We cannot know how prepared Lomion is to unleash his creatures on us. We may no longer have the time to go back to muster our forces." He looked out into the dark beyond the glow of the fire. "This may be our only chance to pre-empt an invasion by these – feeders."

Gimli pursed his mouth. "A daunting task," he grunted. "Almost a hopeless one if I did not know you and your abilities." He snorted. "We will most likely die of this."

Elladan sighed and nodded. "Most likely."

The Dwarf stared into the crackling flames. And then a scapegrace grin creased his face. "I will say this. It's never dull around you," he said. "I wager Lomion will wish he'd never been born by the time you're through with him!"

The Elves had to chuckle at his indomitable spirit. Legolas however shook his head and said: "Mayhap we cannot go back but we must get word to my father of what we have discovered. If we fail at least he will still have a chance to do something about this."

"And how are we supposed to get word to him without one of us actually going back?" Gimli queried pointedly.

Legolas sighed with frustration then suddenly went still. He stared at the topmost branches of a tree several yards away. The others turned to see what it was he had spotted.

Ravens. Several ravens were perched on the tree branches.

Legolas rose and approached the tree. Looking up, he stared intently at the birds. To Elladan and Gimli's amazement, one raven left its perch and flew down to land on the Wood-elf's outstretched arm. Legolas continued to stare at it and the bird in turn seemed to look back at him. After a long while, it took flight and vanished into the darkness. Legolas returned to the others.

"What was that all about?" Gimli growled testily.

Legolas said: "My father is blessed with the gift of communicating with most animals. I am not as gifted and indeed I find it difficult to do." He glanced at Elladan. "I sent the raven back to Eryn Lasgalen to warn Father of the danger and inform him of our location and plans."

Elladan regarded him with some amazement. "In all our years of acquaintance, you never told me of this ability."

Legolas shrugged. "As I said, 'tis not something I am truly strong in. I did not think it worth mentioning even to Elrohir. But in this instance, I fervently hope 'tis sufficient for our needs."

Elladan said, "Aye, let us all hope so." He rose to his feet. "I will take first watch," he said.

Gimli yawned. "I need all the sleep I can get," he decided. "I will take the last watch." As Elladan left to take up his position, he lay down, wrapping his cloak around himself. Soon he was snoring away.

Legolas stayed up a few minutes longer, looking upon Elrohir's mantle shrouded form. Finally, he lay his lithe body down beside him. A few minutes later he was fast asleep as well.

Elladan roused him just before the midnight hour. Without a word, he reached for his bow and quiver, rose to his feet and began to walk away. Elladan's sharp intake of breath brought him up short. The older twin had dropped to his knees beside his brother's huddled form.

"He is shivering!" Elladan softly exclaimed. Swiftly, he pulled off his cloak and threw it over Elrohir's body. He glanced up at Legolas accusingly. "Did you not notice how chilled he was?" he demanded.

Legolas started then flushed guiltily. "I did not think to check," he admitted.

Elladan barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. On the verge of uttering a caustic statement, he started when he felt a cold hand on his arm. He glanced down to find Elrohir awake and looking at both of them.

"Please." A single word but it imparted the Elf-knight's desire for peace most succinctly.

Legolas flinched when Elrohir's eyes met his, the barest flicker of emotion in their depths. Disappointment, the prince realized with a twinge. He would have gone down on his knees by his side then but Elladan forestalled him. "Go. I will take care of him," he said.

His guilt hounding him, Legolas walked off. A few steps away he glanced back to look at the brethren. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Elladan lie down beside his brother and pull him close, letting his body warm the other. Elrohir thankfully accepted the comfort offered and snuggled into his twin's arms.

Shame joined the archer's feeling of culpability. I should have done that for him, he thought with a pang. He recalled Elrohir's summation of his several shortcomings just that very morning. He bowed his head and closed his eyes tightly.

Elrohir's words had seared his very soul. He had thought he'd never seen him so angry. Now he understood that had not been the case at all. The twin had not been enraged. He had been frustrated, disappointed, _wounded_.

How do I make amends to you? Legolas thought coweringly. Will you even let me?

He remained in a pensive mood the following day as they resumed their trek, his unhappiness deepened by Elrohir's seeming renewed aloofness with him. That was hardly surprising. Legolas could only imagine what Elrohir must have felt and thought upon awakening the night before to discover that it was not his mate but his brother who had noted his discomfort and seen to its easing.

It did not help that Elrohir had been so strengthened by his night's repose that he could ride on his own. Once more, it was with Gimli that the woodland prince shared his steed. While he did not desire for Elrohir to remain weak and defenseless, he could not help wishing for any excuse to hold him in his arms once more.

The memory of sweetness on his lips only exacerbated his sense of loss. Elrohir had opened himself to Legolas with his tender actions the day before. It had greatly heartened the prince. But with one simple act of neglect, he had once more given Elrohir reason to doubt whether renewed closeness between them was desirable. After years of putting up with Legolas' questionable behavior, even the paltriest transgression would be a blow to Elrohir's faltering trust in his mate. Legolas' eyes stung with salty moisture as he felt the connection between them waver once more.

So preoccupied was he with his dark thoughts that he progressively grew quieter as they journeyed on. Until at last, he spoke no more unless spoken to. An inquisitive tap on his shoulder called him back to the present.

"What troubles you, Legolas?" Gimli asked with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Why so sad?"

The Elven prince sighed. It humbled him remembering how even Gimli had thought to inquire about Elrohir's state of being the night before. "Before the attack yesterday, Elrohir told me that as his mate, I leave much to be desired," he said miserably. He waited for the Dwarf's response. When none was forthcoming, he knew Gimli was trying to be kind by saying nothing. "You agree with him," Legolas murmured dejectedly.

Behind him he heard Gimli huff uncomfortably. Finally, the Dwarf replied. "'Tis just that I have been observing you and, well, you don't comport yourself as I've seen other mated Elves do. You don't appreciate his efforts to take care of you and you don't seem inclined to take care of him much either. I confess I find it strange, my friend."

Legolas felt his heart constrict with even more guilt. If Gimli had noticed his negligence almost at once then what must other Elves have thought all this time? More importantly, what had that done to Elrohir? Suddenly, he realized how mortifying it must have been for the warrior to endure the pity of everyone around them for only a blind Elf would not have seen how Legolas treated him. A shudder rippled through his lean frame as the image of the Elf-knight putting up a brave front flashed through his mind.

Gimli felt his distress and, in a bid to soothe him, said, "'Tis not something you cannot undo, Legolas. And he will appreciate any effort on your part to make amends."

"More likely he is already beginning to doubt whether I am worth his time," Legolas replied tightly.

Gimli snorted. "Nay, Elrohir would never do that," he said sagely. "He loved you for years before you knew it. That won't cease now that he has won you."

"Won me, Gimli?" the archer laughed bitterly then choked. "I am no prize. Indeed, 'tis a wonder he puts up with me and my failings."

Gimli patted his arm comfortingly. "Now, now, laddie, do not be defeated ere the fight has even begun." He chuckled when the archer started at his choice of words. "This is a fight, Legolas, make no mistake. And victory nothing less than your love together. Is that not something worth struggling for?"

Legolas was silent for a while. But finally, he glanced back at his friend, a faint smile on his lips. "Aye, it is," he softly replied. "He is."

"Then go to it, Elf," Gimli grinned. "Give it your all."

oOoOoOo

The day passed without incident much to Elrohir's relief. Though his weakness was slowly waning he still felt less than his usual robust self. And the cold continued to gnaw at him with tiresome tenacity. Once they set up camp, he edged close to the fire, pulling his cloak close around him as he had done the previous night. Elladan and Gimli sat a short distance away discussing the best route to take in the morning. Legolas stood to one side, listening to their conversation but saying nothing. Elrohir sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"Are you weary, _meleth_?"—love?

He glanced up as Legolas dropped down beside him. After an awkward pause, he nodded. "Somewhat. Sleep should refresh me."

Legolas, his eyes on the fire, hesitated before speaking again. "Do you still feel the cold?" he asked, his cheeks turning rosy.

Elrohir noted his embarrassment and realized the archer was discomfited by his negligence of the previous night. "Nothing a blazing fire and a thick cloak cannot mend," he answered quietly. Legolas bit his lip then looked at him. The warrior could not miss the pleading in the sapphire pools. "Or a warm embrace," he softly added.

The flicker of relief in the archer's eyes was unmistakable. Legolas smiled timidly. "Then let me hold you while you sleep," he offered.

"I would like that," Elrohir replied with an answering smile.

Swiftly, Legolas undid his cloak and spread it on the grass as protection for the ailing Elf against the chill ground. Then he unclasped Elrohir's cloak as well before gently laying him down upon the spread out mantle. Lying beside the warrior, he drew the latter's cloak over their bodies then enfolded his spouse in his arms to hold him close.

Gimli chuckled when he saw what his friend was about. "At least, he is trying to set things right," he commented to Elladan.

The Elf-lord regarded his twin and law-brother with a slight smile. "Aye, 'tis a start." He shook his head bemusedly. "I wonder at Elrohir's fortitude," he admitted. "I would not put up with such mistreatment were I in his place."

Gimli grunted disbelievingly. "Were it Nimeithel who treated you so shabbily I wager you would be as forbearing as your brother," he gibed. "Do not try to dupe me, Master Elf. I have been around your kind far longer than any sensible Dwarf ought!"

Elladan had to grin at the Dwarf's insightful observation. "I will not debate this with you, Gimli," he smiled. "Now, who will take first watch?"

"I will," Gimli decided. "I am still wound up from riding that nervous beast Legolas calls a horse!" He gestured with his head in the two Elves' direction. "What of them?"

Elladan looked back then shook his head. "Elrohir needs all the rest he can get," he said. "And for this night I would have Legolas look after him. Let us share the watch between the two of us, my friend."

The Dwarf nodded and picked up his axe. Just before he strode away, he looked once more at Elladan and said with surprising astuteness, "You shouldn't worry about your wife overmuch, Peredhel. She's a sight safer where she is, with midwives and healers about, than where _we_ are right now."

With that he walked away leaving Elladan to stare at him, dumbfounded yet comforted.

Legolas came awake several hours later, noting when Gimli came back to rouse Elladan. He watched as the older twin took up his weapons and disappeared into the shadows beyond the reach of the campfire's light. Gimli, on the other hand, promptly threw himself down on the opposite side of the fire. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

Legolas relaxed and shifted to check on Elrohir. The younger twin had turned away from him in his sleep but remained close within his embrace. Legolas gently brushed strands of blue-black hair from his cheek. In doing so, he became aware of Elrohir's singular scent. He bent lower and inhaled it deeply. The clean rushing waters of the Bruinen came to mind. And the heather and pine on the hills of the vale. As well as sunshine and fresh air and meadows bedecked with wildflowers. It was wondrous. It was intoxicating. It was arousing.

Legolas tensed as he felt his body come alive and begin to demand release. Just his scent is enough to stir me, he thought with mingled awe and agitation. With each passing year, the Elf-knight became more and more of an irresistible temptation to him no matter now hard he struggled against it. He tried to suppress his need and moved slightly away from Elrohir.

It proved an unwise action for his darkling spouse, seeking his warmth even in sleep, pressed back against him even more closely than before. Legolas groaned as his groin told him most insistently that it was in dire need of attention. He peered down at his sleeping mate. It was yet another mistake.

His face aglow in the golden firelight, thickly lashed eyes closed in peaceful repose, sinuous lips slightly parted, Elrohir looked charmingly innocent, breathtakingly handsome and criminally enticing. There might have been an Elf in Arda who could resist this snare but Legolas knew himself not to be that Elf.

He stole a glance at Gimli. That one would not wake up for anything less clamorous than a pack of screaming orcs. And Elladan... well, even if Elladan did look their way, which was unlikely given that he had just started his watch, the older twin was too seasoned a practitioner of the love-arts to be shocked.

Giving in to his desire, he pushed the dark tresses from the warrior's neck and bent to press heated kisses against its length, suckling the sweet flesh here and there. At the same time, his hand slipped beneath the cloak to quickly loosen the lacing on his breeches. Done with that, he slid his hand around Elrohir's hips and deftly undid his breeches as well.

Elrohir felt himself slowly roused from the depths of slumber by the searing caresses on his neck. Disoriented, he became aware of the prince's lips on his skin and wondered confusedly what time it was that Legolas should be doing such things to him. And then he felt warm fingers slide beneath his trousers to fondle him and he came fully awake from the shock.

"Legolas!" he gasped as the archer stroked him purposefully. "What-what are you – do-doing—?" he managed to utter.

Legolas did not answer him but claimed his mouth with a ravaging kiss when he turned his head to look at him. When Elrohir involuntarily jerked away from his unbidden caresses, he swiftly sneaked his other arm under and around the Elf-knight's body and pulled him back tightly against his own form. Robbed of speech, held snugly in his mate's unyielding embrace, Elrohir could only try to hold on to his sentience as he was skillfully brought to full arousal.

His breath caught when the archer pressed insistently against him from behind. A telltale hardness made patently clear what Legolas' intentions were. As did the sudden hitching up of his tunic and shirt and the yanking down of his breeches to bare his backside. Before he could protest, the prince entered him in one fluid thrust. He barely managed to bite back a cry.

It was so sudden, so unlooked for. Caught completely by surprise, he could only submit to Legolas' desire. He stifled one moan, failed to suppress another, as Legolas drove relentlessly into him even as the archer's hand rhythmically stroked him. The build up of tension and pleasure was fast and furious. He could hear the bit-back feral sounds coming from Legolas, the ragged breathing that foretold the explosive culmination sure to follow. Legolas' rapidly mounting rapture invaded his senses even as his flooded the archer's. He threw his head back against the prince's shoulder, his own body as taut as a too tight bowstring about to snap.

And then it did. And he was gasping hoarsely from the maelstrom of shared sensation seeping into every nook and cranny of his body; shuddering as Legolas took him hard and full as he, too, came to completion.

For a long while they lay quietly, waiting for their hearts to slow down, their breathing to deepen once more. Legolas felt the lovely euphoria that came with their joint release envelope him like a warm blanket. Wordlessly, he hitched up their breeches then pressed a last kiss against Elrohir's neck. He colored slightly when he saw the number of crimson marks he had left on the pale skin.

Elrohir heard the prince's sigh of gratification. He closed his eyes wearily, fumbling with the laces of his breeches. He was sated, true; had enjoyed the sensations that had swept through and over his entire being. But he had been so fatigued and needful of sleep when Legolas had roused him. Now he was exhausted anew. He resisted his body's urge to relax and lie back. He did not want to mar Legolas' contentment and he would surely do so should the archer catch a glimpse of his face.

But he did not reckon with the prince's growing sensitivity to the nuances of his demeanor. Legolas did not fail to notice the curious tension in his body, his refusal to turn over and lie back comfortably. Unease filled his mind. What was wrong?

"Aduial?" he whispered. "What is it? What ails you?" He noted Elrohir's start of surprise; realized the Elf-knight had thought he would not notice his unusual behavior. "Elrohir, were you not – were you not pleased?" he asked uncertainly. "Did I hurt you?"

Elrohir had to respond. "Nay, you did not hurt me," he murmured. "Nor did you displease me."

"Then why do I feel that I did?" came the low, suddenly insecure voice.

It was too much. He could not leave Legolas feeling thus. He lay back and looked up into the archer's anxious countenance. "How could you displease me?" he softly said. "'Tis only that I was weary and did not expect this."

A frown creased the prince's smooth brow. Suddenly, comprehension smote him with a blistering blast. He stared at the warrior, then let out a sharp breath and lowered his eyes.

"Legolas?" Elrohir stroked the archer's cheek gently.

The blue eyes lifted to meet his gaze. They were full of shame. "I did it again, didn't I?" he said in a hushed, pained voice. "I took what I wanted without – without considering your needs."

Elrohir saw the contrition in the suddenly dulled eyes. He raised his hands, cupped the finely sculpted cheeks in his palms. "I know you meant well, Legolas," he whispered. "I did not mean to snatch your joy from you." He pulled him down into a deep kiss.

Legolas clung to him, returning the kiss with a fervor closer to desperation than affection. When the caress ended, he laid his head on the warrior's shoulder and mournfully said: "I am sorry I disturbed your rest. I only wanted you so much that I did not stop to think about how you might feel about it."

He bit his lip to keep it from trembling. One thing he could not bring himself to do and that was to shed tears in front of anyone, not even his Elf-rider. Only once before, more than two millennia ago had he forsaken his pride enough to do so.

Elrohir held him fast. "Do not think your passion unwelcome," he said soothingly. "Nothing makes me happier than to know you desire me. Especially if you do so out of love for me," he added quietly.

"I do, _melethron_"—lover—Legolas whispered earnestly, looking up at the twin. "I would never take you in anything but love."

Elrohir felt a wave of relief wash through him. Unwittingly, Legolas had answered at least one of his questions about their relationship. Whatever other reasons the archer may have had for being the dominant lover of late, at least, he always did so out of love. That was reassuring to the warrior and infinitely sweet to know.

"Do not let this trouble you further," he told his golden spouse. "Truly, I enjoyed your attentions. I would not mind being awakened thusly should you think to do this again." There was a hint of teasing in his tone.

Legolas heard it and had to smile. His anxiety dissipating a little, he put his arms around Elrohir once more. "I told you I would keep you warm while you slept," he said.

"You did much more than warm me," Elrohir smiled.

The archer had the grace to blush as he pulled the cloak over them. On the other side of the fire, Gimli slept on, totally oblivious of what had just occurred but a few steps from his position.

_To be continued_…


	108. Bereth 10 Devilry in Abundance

**AN:** A sci-fi film inspired this particular chapter. It spawned three sequels the last of which was shown in the late 1990s

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IX: Devilry in Abundance  
They saw the black fortress from afar, looming like a dark shadow over the eastern pass of the range. It stood alone save for a scattering of tall sturdy trees along its walls. At one end, a lone tower spiraled upwards, its design reminiscent not of this age or even the last but of the Elder Days. Indeed, the twins realized in shock, it harkened to the look of the buildings of ancient Gondolin as seen in the preserved paintings and tapestries they had seen of that fabled city.

Lomion, be he Maeglin or not, either had an inordinate liking for ancient architecture or, more perturbing, hailed from that long ago age himself.

They swiftly traversed the distance to the narrow zigzagging trail that led up the hill upon which the stronghold stood. Here, they held counsel before proceeding. It was then that the others' concern for Elrohir surfaced.

"We will go on, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—Elladan said. "You had best remain here."

At Elrohir's scowl, Legolas added soothingly: "You are still not quite recovered. We would not have you face peril so soon."

"And you think me safe here? Alone?" Elrohir countered. "What if a horde of orcs should come upon me or, worse, more of those feeders? You will have to tie me down to keep me from going with you. In which case, I would be defenseless and as likely to perish as you."

They could not dissuade him. He would go with them whether they wished it or not.

Leaving their mounts behind they scaled the hill, avoiding the track lest they be seen by any sentries. Coming up to the fortress they avoided detection by climbing a tall tree that practically overlooked the western wall of the compound. They studied the lay of the fortress and its fortifications. There was one great gate and two other smaller ones. All three were guarded but not heavily so and only a handful of orcs patrolled the walls themselves. So few in numbers were they that they had utterly missed the Elves' approach.

Inside, there was a stone courtyard: a stark and cold open space. A few scattered goblins could be seen; some busily gaming on the steps of the keep while others sauntered to and fro. Further on, to the rear of the central building, they saw a long, low-roofed structure. Orcs moved in and out of it; it looked to be the barracks. They studied the keep itself.

It was beautiful in a disturbing way. Definitely of ancient Noldorin design, it was wrought of stone so dark a grey that it seemed almost black from a distance even in bright daylight. The twins guessed the stones must have been quarried from the northern reaches of the Ered Mithrin. While the keep sported one wide entrance, numerous doors dotted its sides as did narrow windows and a number of half-shuttered balconies. One thing it did not have and that was open galleries, which were common to most elven structures. It was a closed building that sought to hold its secrets.

The sole turret soared high above the rest of the building, a forbidding many-windowed column that easily dominated the entire stronghold. But if it had been built as a means of easily surveying the surrounding lands below the fortress, it was not serving its purpose at the moment. The Elves could see little activity through the windows of the turret. For that matter, there were few orcs even within the main wing of the keep itself if the lack of movement as seen through its various openings was indicative of their absence.

Their enemy did not seem too concerned about keeping his domain alert against the possibility of an attack. Did sorcery guard the stronghold or was its lord so confident of its isolation that he had not troubled to fortify it overmuch?

"I had expected this fortress to be better defended," Gimli snorted, sounding rather disappointed.

Legolas noted Elrohir's sudden stillness. The younger twin was staring at the keep with narrowed eyes.

"Aduial? What is it?" he softly asked.

Elrohir kept staring at the building. "There are Elves in the keep," he murmured, a look of intense concentration on his face. "I can sense their presence."

Elladan and Legolas stared at him then opened themselves to the tenuous connection Elrohir had tapped into. Elladan grimaced at length. "Aye, there are Elves in there. Or what used to be Elves."

Gimli growled. "You mean – they've been turned into feeders?"

Elladan nodded. "And now I understand the lack of any real defense. Lomion may have gathered a small army of orcs and provided them with weapons and armor, but they are little more than raiders to him. 'Twas they who ambushed the caravans and settlements and carried the women away. But they are not his main means of conquest." He stared at the keep with barely suppressed rage. "This is not so much a fortress as a breeding center for his creatures."

"Who once unleashed in full will prove exceedingly difficult to defeat particularly if Lomion shields them with armor," Elrohir added.

"They were fearsome enough even without armor," Legolas murmured, recalling their harrowing encounter in the high clearing by the mountain forest.

"Then we must go in and destroy them soonest," Gimli declared.

"Hush!" Legolas hissed, eyes trained on the near wall.

Two guards came strolling along the top of the rampart directly beneath them. They never reached the other end. A pair of hands shot down, grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks and, before they could so much as squeal, hauled them up into the tree. A moment later their bodies were tossed down the steep slope below; they rolled to the bottom of the hill. Any who came across the corpses would think the fools had fallen from their perch and broken their necks as a result.

The Elves dropped lightly to the wall then helped Gimli descend. They raced down the side stairs leading to the courtyard. The orcs on guard never even heard them coming. In seconds, the space was littered with their carcasses.

An orc re-entering the fortress stopped in his tracks and gawked at the sight of corpses strewn about. He dashed for the barracks, shouting harshly to sound the alarm. His fellows came streaming out to see what all the commotion was about. They watched in shock as he suddenly stopped, stood stock still with the oddest look on his face then pitched forward on his face. They gawked at the arrow that stuck straight up out of his back.

And then pandemonium broke out. A lethal shower of arrows from above soon decimated their ranks. Those who escaped the deadly rain found their way blocked by a tall Elf and one doughty Dwarf. An instant later, Elrohir and Legolas came up behind the startled orcs. The resulting fight was brutal. These orcs were no more skilled than the goblins the Elves and Gimli had fought earlier. But they were just as savage and bloodthirsty. And for those who wore it, were well protected by their armor.

Eventually, skill and experience proved the better of sheer ferocity and the orcs were slowly overcome. Gimli roared smugly at Legolas as he smote yet another goblin, making the Elf-prince grin at him in return. They were therefore startled when a piercing shriek rose above the clamor.

Through the corner of his eye, Legolas saw that a door on the far side of the keep had been flung open. A score of well-armed orcs poured out. And in their midst were a half-dozen women in filmy grey raiment. But these women had been fitted with full helms of galvorn that protected their throats and breastplates that shielded their torsos. Thus attired they looked like the pagan war goddesses of the eastern lands.

Gimli rolled his eyes upon seeing them. "Not again!" he grumbled.

The battle turned eminently perilous as Elves and Dwarf squared off against the fresh contingent of orcs and the feeders. And for the longest while, it looked as if things would go ill for the invaders. Until Elladan discovered by a most fortuitous accident the one weak point in the feeders' armor. Fending off one of them, he sought to slice up her jaw to slow her down at the very least. But she jerked her face away and his blade slid into the narrow seam where helm joined neckpiece and plunged straight into the creature's throat. He yanked his sword out and watched in some disbelief as the feeder collapsed in a lifeless heap.

Timely edification indeed!

Meanwhile, Gimli found himself cornered by five orcs. Wielding his axe with relish he soon reduced the number to two. But as he gutted one goblin, the last one caught him from behind, forcing him to drop his axe. He struggled vigorously, trying to break free of the orc's shackling arms. It was then that he realized what the orc was up to. A feeder was fast approaching them, her hands extended to cup his face.

Gimli bellowed in fury, bucking and kicking at the goblin behind him then lashing out with his feet at the woman. Two of his kicks caught her in the neck as she doubled over from a blow to her belly. But they glanced off the black metal that enclosed her throat, leaving not so much as a dent. She straightened up; he saw a blur of clutching fingers. Instinctively, he ducked his head just as she grabbed at him. She ended up with his orkish opponent's face in her hands instead. The goblin howled in agony as the feeder started to drain him in lieu of the Dwarf.

Gimli broke free then regarded the hapless duo in mixed bemusement and amusement. The orc was positively ripe with terror and pain while the woman only stared at him with a vacuous expression. Grabbing his fallen axe the Dwarf gave but a moment to the thought that apparently the transformation of these women did nothing for their brains if they'd been bird-wits to begin with! Aiming for the weak spot in the creature's helm, he lopped off both her head and the orc's in one swing. As the now headless trunks sagged to the ground, he nodded with satisfaction then plunged right back into the fray.

The battle-happy Dwarf-lord soon noticed a feeder stalking Legolas as the prince waded into a scrappy group of orcs. Too far to fling his axe with precision, he caught up an orc lance and heaved it with all his might at the woman. It caught her just below her breastplate and pinned her to the wooden wall of the barracks. Legolas, having dealt with his opponents, called his thanks to his friend then turned to the writhing feeder. Strong as she was, she could not pull the lance out, so deeply embedded was it in the wall. She began to wriggle along it, literally passing herself along its length to get off it. She stopped, however, when she saw Legolas nearing her. And then, surprisingly, she ceased her movements and slumped upon the protruding lance.

Moving in for the kill, Legolas was taken aback when the creature spoke.

"Release me, my prince," she begged. "End this torment."

Legolas came closer and stared at the woman. She looked vaguely familiar despite the black wells of her eyes. With a start he realized she was an Elf. His blood ran cold. Had they already emerged?

"Who are you?" he asked in a low voice.

"Nelleth," she rasped.

Legolas gasped in shock. Nelleth had been a lady of his father's court. Long ago he had held nothing but contempt for her due to her unseemly rapacious conduct. But eventually, she had mellowed and wed and migrated with her husband and family to the north of Greenwood. Their settlement had been the first to be raided. She had been amongst the Elven women who had vanished in the wake of that attack.

"Slay me," the Elf-woman pleaded. Her eyes changed, the blackness fading until Legolas could see the irises she had been born with. They were crystal clear gray. There was no longer any doubt. It was Nelleth.

He moved to pull out the lance but she immediately recoiled. "Nay!" she hissed. "I will not be able to stop myself. I will kill you." She panted in pain. "You must release me... the others. Let us depart... to the Halls of Mandos... Help us find peace."

Legolas drew his breath in sharply. "Have the others been unleashed?"

"Not yet... I am the first. But they will soon be ready. You must stop them... before they emerge."

"Where are they?"

"The breeding chamber... eastern wing of the keep. But the talisman... is kept on a high altar... the tower."

"Talisman?"

"That which has kept our master alive... feeds him the life energy we suck from our victims. He cannot be slain... so long as it exists. Destroy it... he will bleed and die... as will we." She raised her head and gazed at him imploringly once more. "I was a loyal subject... release me. Have mercy, son of Thranduil." The blackness took over her eyes once more. With awful suddenness she tried to grab Legolas' face in her hands.

Legolas lunged back in horror. The creature, no, the ruined Elf-lady continued to flail her arms, trying to reach him. Pity and revulsion filled him even as a cold rage at the monster who had violated her took root within him. Gimli came up and wordlessly handed him his axe. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Legolas hefted it and decapitated her with one clean stroke.

Looking about, he realized the fighting had died down and that the twins were finishing off the last of the orcs. The four gathered in the center of the bloodied yard. Legolas swiftly recounted what he had learned from Nelleth.

"That door must lead to the breeding chamber," he said, pointing to the passageway from which the women had emerged.

Elladan hurriedly made a decision. "Gimli and I will search for the talisman, _gwanneth_. You and Legolas take care of destroying the feeders."

They split up, the older twin and the Dwarf hurrying toward the tower wing while the lovers headed for the open door.

It led into a dim and winding corridor lit only intermittently by candles. At the end of the passageway was a heavy wooden door. Elrohir lifted his hand and gingerly pushed it open.

They entered a large chamber illuminated only by torches. Their nostrils were immediately assailed by a queer odor. It was not foul but it was unpleasant nonetheless. It reminded them of the unwashed pelts of carrion eaters. Feral and unwholesome.

The chamber was windowless and dank and chilly. Elrohir could not help a slight shiver as his still less than fully recovered body reacted to the cold. The floor was of stone as were three walls but the far wall was of wood and rotting wood at that. The damp atmosphere had obviously done its worst on it. The two looked about in ever waxing loathing and horror.

"Oh Eru," Legolas breathed shakily.

Slender spun casings of greyish white lined the walls. A few hung from the ceiling. They looked liked large _gwilwileth_ cocoons. Approaching the closest forms, they found they could actually see through the porous material. Shuddering, they espied the women within, their countenances evincing great suffering as their bodies were warped into instruments of wickedness.

They noticed some casings moving, as if the creatures within were trying to break out. Alarmed, Elrohir snatched a torch from the wall.

"Are we going to burn them?" Legolas queried with distaste.

"I see no other way to end this soonest," Elrohir said. "We cannot possibly slit all their throats!"

He held his torch to one cocoon, lighting it at the approximate location of the creature's throat. As he and Legolas watched in sorrow, the entire casing began to writhe and jerk and a keening cry emanated from within. And then it went still and was wholly consumed by the flames.

Legolas grabbed a torch as well and the two of them set to their grisly task. It was gruesome going as the unearthly screams of the encased feeders rang through the chamber. Elrohir paused to watch Legolas set the suspended cocoons afire with flaming arrows.

He was just turning back to burn the remaining cocoons near the wooden wall when two suddenly split open. He called out a warning to Legolas as he unsheathed his sword. One feeder emerged, her body glistening with a clear, slightly viscous liquid, her dark hair plastered wetly to her head, neck and back. One moment she gazed at Elrohir with seemingly lucid eyes. But in the next they blackened into shadowed wells and she began to approach him, the fluids of her ghastly metamorphosis trailing behind her.

Elrohir had only a second to note her delicately tipped elven ears before she shrilled hungrily and lunged at him. A moment later, her body collapsed to the stone floor while her head tumbled away. He quickly turned to the other cocoon only to find it empty.

"Elrohir!"

Too late. Legolas raced to his mate as the other feeder pounced on him. But Elrohir fought back furiously, ramming his elbow into the creature's belly. She screeched angrily and threw him against the wall then rushed him. He thrust his sword straight out at her and it ran right through her throat. But her momentum was such that she crashed into him with violent force.

Before Legolas' horrified eyes, the rotting wall gave way and they vanished into the darkness beyond. And then the roof directly above caved in and came crashing down to block up the hole.

Barely waiting for the dust to settle, Legolas desperately tore at the great blocks of stone and thick beams of heavy wood. To no avail. He was separated from Elrohir by a veritable mountain of rubble.

Glossary:  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
gwilwileth - butterfly

_To be continued_…


	109. Bereth 11 The Face of Evil

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter X: The Face of Evil  
Legolas almost howled in frustration as he glared at the blocked up passage. His first impulse was to rush out of the chamber and search for Elrohir. But as he looked about at the burning cocoons, he forced himself to calm down and think rationally.

Elrohir had killed the creature, of that Legolas was certain. At least, she was no longer a threat to him. Knowing the Elf-knight, he was probably already up on his feet and seeking a way out of wherever he had fallen. At least, Legolas fervently hoped so. In the meantime, he had a task to finish. Elrohir would chide him mercilessly if he did not.

He hastened to destroy the last of the encased feeders before finally leaving the chamber to look for his mate.

oOoOoOo

Elladan and Gimli warily entered the tower wing. Their caution was more than understandable. Just as they had neared the tower, the rear gate of the fortress had suddenly opened and several orcs had entered. That they had not been expecting trouble was apparent from their relaxed manner. Preferring to avoid more confrontations and get to their goal soonest, Elf and Dwarf had melted into the shadows and allowed the goblins to pass them. To their frustration, the creatures lingered by the gate for an exasperatingly long time, bickering pointlessly about some trifling matter or another before finally shuffling on.

The two knew they would have to act quickly. Once the orcs saw the corpse-littered yard, they would hunt for the intruders.

Sure enough, they had just located a side door to the wing when they heard the first screams of outrage. Fortunately, the door was not locked and they were able to slip in quietly. Now they hurriedly crept down the small hall, searching until they discovered a flight of winding stairs. A quick look told them the stairs led up into the turret. They ascended, ever alert for guards.

To their surprise, about two thirds of the way up, they came to an empty chamber. But within the chamber was another flight of stairs. They lifted their eyes to the top of it and saw another landing and atop this flat space was a great stone slab. An altar from the look of it. Above that, arched buttresses held up a curved ceiling. Light streamed in from a series of tall windows just below the ceiling line.

They were just about to climb the stairs when a dozen orcs burst into the chamber. Elladan gritted his teeth as he and Gimli fought off the goblins. They could not afford any more delays. Elbereth only knew what was happening elsewhere. What if Elrohir and Legolas had run into more trouble with the feeders and right there deep in their nest?

When he and the Dwarf had reduced the goblins to half their number, he yelled: "Go, Gimli! I will take care of the rest!"

He plowed straight into the orcs, blade flashing wickedly, while Gimli hurried up the narrow steps, sturdy axe ready.

oOoOoOo

Elrohir shoved the dead feeder off him and rose to his feet. Eyeing the wreckage before him, he quickly realized there was no way back through the gap in the wall. Sheathing his sword, he looked about and saw he was in a wide, unlit hallway. He began to traverse it, wondering if he was going in the right direction. If he could only locate a window, he would be able to get his bearings.

He came upon an arched open door. Passing through it, he discovered that it led into a large, semi-circular chamber. A chamber that was sparsely furnished but furnished for comfort nonetheless.

There was a hearth to one side, cold and dark for now. And by it were an elegant armchair and a large side table covered with scrolls and books.

On the other end, against a tapestried wall, was a low, wide divan graced by plush cushions. Tall paned windows along one wall opened up the room to daylight. Elrohir walked to them and looked out. The room overlooked the courtyard; he now had an idea where in the keep he was at the moment.

He began to head back for the door when he suddenly sensed a presence approaching. A presence so malignant he was suddenly reminded of the last battle before the Morannon. It was then, as he fought Sauron's minions on the Dark Lord's very doorstep, that he had felt his malice at its sharpest. It was the same now, this evil that neared the chamber though not the overwhelming power of Sauron before the One Ring was unmade. He did not know whether to be apprehensive of the former or grateful for the latter.

A shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. With lightning quickness, Elrohir shot an arrow into the darkened form just as it entered the room. It ran through the stranger's throat with a sickening thud. But to Elrohir's shock, the figure remained standing. And began to softly laugh.

It came into the dim light, tall as an Elf and graceful as a woman. But if Elrohir expected to be confronted with a female he was in for another shock.

The face that he beheld was that of an Elf. A male Elf. He had long black hair and clear grey elven eyes. And he was comely in the way the Firstborn were comely. But there were some things not right about him.

The light in his eyes was unholy and the pallor of his skin made him seem more akin to the dead than the living. And his form beneath his floor-length robes… Elrohir was certain he had seen a woman's form earlier but now there was no trace of it. It was almost as if the feminine curves had melted away into the hard planes of a man. And then there was that arrow still protruding from his throat.

"Well done!" the being said, casually plucking the arrow from his throat. "I have been observing you and your friends' progress thus far. I must commend you. The four of you were more than a match for a whole garrison of orcs. Really, I will have to train the others more thoroughly." Catching Elrohir's start of surprise, he smiled indulgently. "Aye, there are more of them encamped on the northern face of this hill. A troop has already arrived though they do not know yet of your mischief. But they will soon enough and when they do... They are poor soldiers but excellent trackers. They will find your companions. And when I am done with you, I will join them and your friends will pay dearly for their daring." He shook his head with mock regret. "I will concede, however, that was clever of you to burn up my menagerie though hardly pleasing to me. I shall now have to rebuild my collection this spring. How annoying of you to set me back by several months."

He moved closer, peered speculatively at Elrohir. "But I must say you are a remarkable warrior, _pen neth_, despite your weakening." At the twin's quick scowl, he added smoothly, "Oh aye, I can sense the diminishment of your strength and know the reason for it. You encountered one of my pets earlier. Foolish of her to think she could take on an immortal single-handedly. But before you killed her, I tasted something of your unique flavor." He ran his tongue musingly over his lips as if savoring a delicacy at a banquet. "'Tis unusual. You are obviously an _Edhel_ yet you carry the essence of mortal-kind within you. How passing strange. I had thought the only Peredhel in Middle-earth to be Tuor's misbegotten half-breed son."

The voice was relaxed, almost languid, but Elrohir was not deceived. There was a wickedness in his opponent that he had not felt since the downfall of Sauron. It left him chilled and as tense as a drawn bowstring.

Of a sudden, Elrohir realized something. This creature was no omnipotent being as evidenced by his lack of knowledge of the dynastic propagation of the Peredhil through the ages. But even more significant was his ignorance of Elladan and Gimli's intent. He knew of the burning of the crèche of feeders in the breeding chamber but not of the intent to destroy the object that held him to life.

The others could deal with poorly trained orcs but he did not know what harm Maeglin was capable of wreaking on them nor did he wish for them to find out. He had to keep the Elf here with him as long as he could, keep him occupied, hold his attention to give his brother and Gimli the chance to find and destroy the talisman. He could only pray that the orcs would not discover either their or Legolas' whereabouts too soon.

He regarded his nemesis with open contempt. "You are Maeglin, son of Aredhel of Gondolin," he said, his voice hard and accusing.

The cold grey eyes widened with some surprise. Then they tempered into pleased amusement.

"Ah, so you know. How perceptive of you," Maeglin almost purred. "But truly, I prefer Lomion. 'Twas the name my mother chose for me, you see."

"You were thrown from the Caragdûr by Tuor himself. How did you survive it?" Elrohir demanded, playing for as much time as possible.

"A pretty warrior and a brave one, Lomion," said a woman's voice from out of nowhere. It was low and husky with an edge of malice. Elrohir stared. The voice seemed to have come from Maeglin himself. "Why not tell him our story? It would be quite amusing to see his reaction."

Maeglin eyed Elrohir with a different kind of interest. "Aye, Alieth, it would be amusing." He sauntered nonchalantly to the armchair by the hearth and sank into it. He knew and Elrohir knew that he was in no danger and so he could afford to be incautious.

"Now, where shall I begin my tale?" he mused with a smirk.

oOoOoOo

Legolas had just emerged from the passageway to the breeding chamber when he spotted a large band of goblins entering the courtyard from the rear gate. He cursed under his breath and ducked behind a pillar. He had thought they'd rid the fortress of all of its foul denizens. He watched as the orcs began to howl and quarrel at first sight of their dead comrades. One of them, apparently their leader, began to give orders. A few were dispatched to check the breeding chamber. Another handful entered the main wing.

Legolas eyed the goblins as they disappeared into the keep. He needed to follow them to get to Elrohir. Focusing on their bond, he found he could sense his mate however ephemeral the connection. It beckoned to him, growing strong when he chose the right way, fading when he chose the wrong. And it told him most emphatically that Elrohir was somewhere within the center of the hold.

His breath caught as he saw the remainder of the troop head for the tower wing. Valar! They would find Elladan and Gimli, he thought in consternation. He had to draw some of them away lest they overcome the two. With one last thought for his Elf-knight, he boldly stepped into plain sight and began to loose arrows into the backs of the charging orcs.

It had the desired effect. A third of them turned in fury and dashed back to confront him. Continuing to cut them down as they neared him, Legolas hoped the older twin and his Dwarf friend would be able to deal with the remaining two-thirds that pressed on toward the tower.

oOoOoOo

While Elladan staved off the orcs below, Gimli reached the top of the stairs. Huffing slightly from the exertion of climbing so high and swiftly, he approached the altar eagerly. He stared at the thing that he was tasked to destroy and sharply sucked in his breath.

There was a clear dome of some glassy substance upon the altar. In its very center lay a square-cut crystal set within a skillfully wrought web of mithril. The crystal was pitch black but its depths gleamed blue and violet in the light. Child of the mountains and the forge, Gimli could appreciate its beauty. But he could not covet it. It looked and felt unholy. It pulsated with unnatural energy; he could literally see tiny bolts of light streak across just below its surface.

Mouth grim, he hoisted his axe to smash the protective dome. He brought it down hard. To his shock, the dome did not give. He brought his axe down again and again, determined to unhouse the talisman. So intent was he that he failed to mark the shadow that emerged from behind the arched buttress above the altar.

Elladan slew the last of his foes and looked up to see how Gimli was doing. The stealthy movement caught his notice and he gasped as it came into the light. He beheld a many legged creature just off to Gimli's right.

"Gimli, beware! Above you!" he cried out in warning.

The Dwarf glanced up too late. The spider-like creature had thrown itself against him. They both fell to the floor. Before he could react, the monster buried its fangs in his shoulder. Gimli roared as incredible pain seared his shoulder. Almost blacking out from the agony, he desperately pummeled the creature with his fist while with his other hand he scrabbled for the fallen axe.

Below, turmoil broke out anew when a fresh party of orcs converged on Elladan. As he plunged into battle once more, the Elf-lord managed to spare one worried glance at the struggle up high before he was forced to attend to the business of staying alive.

oOoOoOo

Unmindful of the sounds of strife just below his chamber's windows, Maeglin unfolded a tale of almost unbelievable dimensions. Elrohir listened with mingled horror and fascination, wondering at the never-ending possibilities for the impossible in these Hinter Lands.

"I fell from cruel Caragdûr, cast down by the unworthy hands of a mere mortal. I, Maeglin, kinsman of Turgon, scion of the royal house of Gondolin, brought low by a lowly _adan_. I struck the Amon Gwareth three times before hurtling into the flames below. They left me for dead, believing me vanquished. But what they did not know was that I had in my keeping a gift from Morgoth himself. 'Twas not only a king's daughter and a kingdom he promised me in exchange for Gondolin's ruin. He gifted me with a talisman of his devising. He knew I would need its protection. He was cruel with those who defied him but those who served him well he greatly rewarded."

"The talisman binds me to this life. So long as it exists, I exist. And that was Morgoth's intent for me. That I lived to govern the thralls of Gondolin for him with my beloved at my side. What neither he nor I anticipated was that Tuor would throw me down the Amon Gwareth into fire. For the crystal's power had not yet waxed to its fullest and fire could still harm my body though not destroy it."

"Burned was I beyond recognition by those accursed flames. I lived but I did not look as one of the living. Any who saw me, Elf or Man, feared me as a monster and hunted me. I fled east and hid in the Ered Luin. I could not afford to damage my body any more than it was already. Only a spell Morgoth had set upon the crystal would allow me to regain what I had lost. But every Elf in Beleriand now knew of my pact with him and, with all set against me, there was little chance of using it. And so I hid in the deeps of the mountains and bided my time, caught between waking and dreaming. Until at last I heard a great tumult and crept out and saw the destruction of the lands west of the Ered Luin in the Great Battle."

"I rejoiced then. They who had snatched my rightful place from me had paid the ultimate price themselves. The loss of their realms, the end of all they had striven for, the return in humble repentance to Aman. It was revenge of the sweetest kind."

"But it did not change my circumstances. I was still but a mere shell of my former beauty and strength. Only the talisman kept me from slipping into the Halls of Awaiting. I needed to find a new house for my _fëa_. An immortal and willing house that would permit me to reshape it into my former countenance and body. That was the one weakness of Morgoth's spell on the talisman. I could not force my fëa on a new host. Not that he believed I would ever need to and so we gave little thought to it."

"I left the Ered Luin and made for the unknown lands in the east. Until at last, I came to these mountains, exhausted in body and weary in spirit. I found a cavern wherein to rest and ponder my dismal future. And there the talisman wove a spell yet unknown to me. It put me to sleep. A sleep so deep it lasted for nigh two ages."

"That was how Alieth found me. She was a Silvan sorceress in the service of Sauron, my Lord Morgoth's lieutenant. Ah, you are shocked. Did you think all _Edhil_ had set themselves against the Dark Lord? There were some amongst the Wood-elves who cleaved to Sauron and served his cause though none save Alieth survived the War to tell their tales. As I was saying, she found me. Her master had fallen and all his servants had fled the ruins of Mordor and his fortress in Greenwood, fearful of retribution by his foes. Alieth had served him in Dol Guldur and remained there even when he forsook it for Mordor. When the Witch-queen of Lórien destroyed it, she escaped to the north, eluding the Elves, Dwarves and Men who had only lately battled Sauron's orcs."

"She came to my cave, drawn by the power of the talisman. And when she beheld my charred body, she did not recoil as others had but recognized me as a kindred spirit. She woke me and heard my tale. She understood how greatly she would benefit from union with me. And so she offered her body to house my spirit."

"With the power of the talisman, I abandoned my ruined form and moved into hers. It was only then that I discovered the whole of the spell. I could remold my old form using Alieth's flesh and bones but she could also take her shape if I willed it. And so we could share each other's knowledge and skills and, wondrously enough, even each other's pleasures."

"Alieth is an avid worshipper of the carnal arts, her considerable appetite quite insatiable. But her womanhood worked against her. While she has occasionally indulged herself in female-kind, her preference is for male-flesh. Unfortunately, she could only seduce if she coveted any; she could not ravish. Her union with me changed that. Alieth now knows the joys of taking what she desires whenever and however she desires the taking."

"You are repulsed! Ah, but you do not comprehend the exquisite pleasure of breaching a man and watching his face change as his ravager's countenance alters into a woman's. It is a priceless experience, I assure you! And entertaining as well. Especially when I take over afterwards to ensure his silence."

"But I digress. With body and strength restored it was a simple matter to take control of the orcs of these mountains. They are simple-minded creatures, really, in dire need of guidance if they hope to flourish anon. They built this fortress for me. It is very much in the likeness of my old abode in Gondolin save for the color of its stone."

"And now you must be wondering how I came to breed my pets. I credit Alieth with that. 'Twas something Sauron had started to experiment with when he abided in Dol Guldur. But circumstances caught up with him and he was perforce compelled to abandon it before he perfected the process. When Alieth returned to his tower, she continued his work and eventually achieved what he had not. This knowledge she had planned to present to Sauron soon after. Unfortunately, he was vanquished by a rag-tag army of men and two miserable Halflings ere she could go to him."

"Thus her hard-won knowledge came to me instead and, as you have seen, we have put it to good use. For with every life that is sucked dry, my strength and invincibility grows ever greater. Despite your lamentable interference, I will soon have a fine band of feeders once more to do my bidding. I now have enough orcs at my beck and call to take on whole villages and towns for my needs. Aye, even the Wood-elves' realm is no longer beyond my reach. And Alieth and I have learned how to hasten the breeding process as well. Before this year is over, I will become so powerful, Middle-earth will think Sauron a mere fledgling in the arts of sorcery and conquest!"

"And so we have come to the end of my tale. A marvellous one, do you not agree?"

Elrohir drew a deep, calming breath. What Maeglin had recounted to him seemed almost too impossible to believe. Yet he could not deny that the Elf's narration resonated with the force of its veracity.

He continued to stall for time. "The orc who told me your name claimed you took care of the cold-drakes," he said. "Is this true?"

Maeglin shrugged. "All too true."

"How?"

"My, you are an inquisitive one." Another shrug. "'Twas a simple task for a sorceress of Alieth's talent. She simply channeled the sun's heat and slowly baked them to death."

Elrohir gasped, appalled by so ruthless an act of destruction. Maeglin laughed. "Oh, you need not worry about a repeat of such a feat. Alieth says it took too much out of her and that she has no desire to try it again."

"But the talisman? I do not see it on you. Why do you not wear it?"

"There is no need. It is bound to me and I to it. And where I have kept it, it does more good for as it keeps me from death, so does it protect my creations. As you have seen, they do not succumb to injury. Except for their necks!" Maeglin snickered. "It seems there is no such thing as an error-free spell!"

He suddenly looked at Elrohir and smiled. It was a most wicked smile.

Elrohir noted the malevolent glow in the other's eyes. He licked suddenly dry lips. "You have regaled me with your tale when you could have easily done away with me," he said. "Why have you spared me thus far?"

Maeglin chuckled. The sound raised Elrohir's hackles. The older Elf said: "Alieth my dear, I believe 'tis time for you to answer him."

He rose from the chair and faced Elrohir. An instant later, to the Elf-knight's shock, his head seemed to shimmer out of focus and another appeared in its place. And his body's symmetrical lines altered as well, softening and filling out to become distinctly feminine.

Dark red hair crowned a delicately sculpted oval face from which a pair of almond-shaped aquamarine eyes peered out. A graceful aquiline nose and a generous mouth of richest rose completed the woman's features. Elrohir stared at a countenance of stunning beauty and allure. And unspeakable malice.

Glossary:  
Edhel, Edhil - Elf, Elves  
fëa - Quenya for spirit  
pen neth – younger one  
adan – man

_To be continued_…


	110. Bereth 12 Unholy Desire

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XI: Unholy Desire  
Gimli managed to grasp the handle of his axe. With a mighty effort, he one-handedly swung it, embedding the blade in the spider-creature's skull or whatever passed for a skull in it. It shrieked and released him. As it scrabbled away from him, Gimli wrenched the axe free.

But the beast was still able to fight and it reared, ready to pounce on its erstwhile victim. It did not look like the spiders of Mirkwood but it may have been their distant kin. It was smaller and bristly with claw-tipped appendages but, thankfully, had no venom in its bite. Gimli glowered at it in rage.

"Come on, you mangy excuse for a monster!" he bellowed, brandishing his axe.

The creature leaped at him but without the element of surprise it was less effective. Gimli dealt it several serious blows until, finally, he lopped off two limbs. As the limbs concerned were what the beast had been using at the moment to cling to its perch, their sudden loss caused it to topple over and fall to the ground far below. It landed with a hideous squelch atop several orcs, trembled violently for a moment, before going still.

Glancing down after the creature, Gimli took a quick look to see how Elladan was doing. To his relief, the Elf-lord had dispatched the rest of his foes quite nicely. Bleeding profusely from the wound in his shoulder, the stouthearted Dwarf determinedly resumed his attempts to destroy the talisman.

Meanwhile, Elladan had managed to shut the heavy door to the chamber. Grabbing two of the scattered black swords, he quickly slid them across the latch. He finished not a moment too soon as evinced by the pounding from outside that indicated more orcs were trying to get in. He kept an eye on the door, sword ready, just in case they managed to break in.

oOoOoOo

"You are a comely thing, _maethoren_"—my warrior—Alieth said crooningly as she approached the Elf-knight. "And a feisty one."

She suddenly lifted her hand and ran the back of her fingers down Elrohir's cheek. He jerked away and stepped back out of reach, eyes hard and wary.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded tightly though he feared he already knew the answer.

She laughed softly. "Why you, pretty one," she said. "I would have you."

Elrohir felt a wave of loathing sweep through him. The very thought of being touched by the abomination before him shriveled his soul.

"I would die first, witch," he said, almost spitting out the words.

Her eyes narrowed though she smiled. "You will die then," she agreed. "But before you do, you will know what it means to spurn me."

Elrohir started and whirled around as the chamber door slammed shut on its own. He noted with foreboding that the top of the panel was open but barred. It recalled to him the dungeons of men. Suddenly, he understood what the chamber had been used for and what manner of occupants had been confined within. He looked back at the sorceress.

She had vanished and Maeglin stood before him once more. He drew a sword from beneath his dark robe. It was black. Black of hilt and black of blade.

The Elf smiled with a malice that was chilling. "Beautiful is it not?" he said, playing with the sword. "My father taught me the art of its making. And he was considered a master of such weapons. But this is special for another reason."

Elrohir kept a wary eye on his opponent's hands. He had not survived all these millennia by dropping his guard even for a moment.

Maeglin held up the sword, pointing the blade at Elrohir. "The blade is poisoned," he drawled. "But do not fear just yet; this poison does not kill. That is not its intention. One cut from this and your limbs will go numb. You will find it difficult to move or walk. Indeed, you will find it difficult to resist anything Alieth has planned for you." The malice in the smile deepened. "That is what you desire, is it not, Alieth?"

"Aye, Lomion," Alieth's voice whispered. "If the child will not willingly lie in my arms, then I will be as pleased to have him by force." The whisper rose to a hiss. "And when I have had my pleasure, you may then send him to the Halls of Mandos."

"Delighted," Maeglin said.

He approached Elrohir with an arrogance born of the confidence that the darkling Elf would not be able to damage him. He dropped into the stance of a warrior as did Elrohir.

The two Elves circled each other, one filled with the desire to dominate and conquer, the other with the need to defeat and vanquish. With terrible suddenness, Maeglin lunged at Elrohir, black sword flashing with wicked speed. With equal speed and skill, the younger twin parried each stroke, ever conscious of the need to avoid getting so much as a scratch on himself.

And a thought nagged at him. An impression to be more precise. Something about Maeglin was very wrong. He'd sensed it at the start of the other's tale. And it had grown as he'd continued to recount it. He suspected what it was but he could not be certain just yet.

oOoOoOo

After knifing the last orc in the yard, Legolas found himself torn between seeking Elrohir and helping Elladan and Gimli. Even as he had battled his share of the goblin troop, he'd been keenly aware of the sounds of sharp cries and clashing metal resounding from the windows of the turret. He worried that his friends were facing more foes than they could handle, that they might fail to destroy the talisman.

A harsh bellow from the tower caught his attention as he recognized Gimli's voice. It had not been made in pain or fear but in sheer anger.

He smiled grimly. He decided they were quite capable of taking care of themselves if Gimli's roar was any indication of his mood. He dashed into the keep.

His first thought was that the interior did not in any way match the exterior of the hold. He'd been expecting some elements of grandeur within. Plush furnishings, marbled floors, heavy tapestries on the walls. But the entrance hall was practically empty and the floor was of the same rough-hewn stone as the walls of the keep itself. Clearly, it had been designed with the intention to impress or awe from afar, nothing more. An odd intention, Legolas mused.

He reached out with his mind, trying to sense where Elrohir might be. There were three corridors leading away from his location. He guessed one led to the tower wing. Another...the kitchens and storerooms perhaps? He strode to the last one. Almost at once, he felt the tenuous connection surge in the recesses of his mind. He sprinted down the passageway, praying he would find his mate soon.

oOoOoOo

Stroke and counterstroke. It was a nightmare duel and one that was heavily balanced against Elrohir. No matter how many times he got past Maeglin's defenses, the other's wounds healed instantly. Elrohir knew he could not keep it up indefinitely, superior elven endurance and strength notwithstanding. He was not yet fully recovered. Sooner or later he would tire enough to allow his opponent to slip his blade through.

It did not comfort him that Maeglin did not intend to kill him yet. What Alieth had in store for him while he lay helpless from the poison was, in his opinion, worse than death. For she would strip him of his honor and dignity and violate his very soul. Elrohir knew he could not endure such a fate.

Fatigue soon took its toll of him. It seemed to resurrect the deadly chill he'd experienced after the feeder's assault. He felt his hand tremble as the cold snaked into his joints, slowing his reflexes for just one split second. It was enough.

He gasped as he felt the black blade slice across his right arm. Almost at once he felt a curious numbness creep up and spread. Stumbling, he leaned against the wall, trying to keep hold of his sword, trying not to fall as the lack of sensation made its way down to his legs. Finally, he felt his knees give way and he was forced down upon them. His sword slipped from his now senseless fingers and landed with a clang on the floor.

Maeglin did not wait for him to collapse completely but pulled him up and almost threw him onto the divan. He tossed his black sword down then wrested Elrohir's bow and quiver away, tossing both aside. He straightened. And changed. Alieth stood in his place.

"He is ready for you now, my dear," Maeglin's voice cooed.

Alieth eyed the Elf-knight. She smiled.

The sorceress knelt before him, almost straddling him. She reached out a hand and caressed his cheek. "So beautiful," she murmured. Her hand moved down to his chest, stroked her palm over its broad expanse admiringly. "I do not believe I have had a fairer one than you in all my long years." She fingered the clasps of his tunic.

There was a sudden sharp gasp and she paused in her fondling. "Lomion?"

"Wait, this one is different," Maeglin said, his voice oddly hushed. "I smell her sweetness in him, feel her glow, her very essence. He is of Idril's line! My golden Celebrindal, the only one I ever loved."

"You never loved anyone," Elrohir snapped. "You only wished to dominate and corrupt and ruin. My foremother saw you for what you were and reviled you."

Alieth slapped him hard and the voice of Maeglin barked, "You will hold your tongue, _pen neth_, lest you wish to feel my full wrath."

"Lomion, Lomion," soothed Alieth. "You can have your revenge for his hurtful words. Why not take him yourself? 'Twill be fitting, do you not think, that he so reminds you of her?"

There was a pause. And then Maeglin chuckled lasciviously. The sound sent a shock wave of revulsion through Elrohir.

"You are right, Alieth." The sorceress' face and form shimmered into Maeglin's countenance and body once more. He leered at an increasingly appalled Elrohir, raking the Elf-knight's lean, muscular frame with rapacious intent. "Mayhap we should not kill this one after all. Our bed has been cold these many years. He will warm it quite nicely for us. What say you?"

"An excellent idea, my dear lord. The very thought is enough to undo me," Alieth crooned desirously. "Take him now!"

Horror coursed through Elrohir's veins. As Maeglin bent down over him, he desperately tried to twist away from him. With a supreme effort, he lashed out with his arm, striking the other Elf's cheek hard enough to force him back. Maeglin gazed at Elrohir, almost amused by his defiance, and just as impressed.

"Still fighting, sweet one?" he remarked. "'Tis so uncooperative of you." He cupped Elrohir's face and forced him to look at him. "Such a lovely creature," he murmured. "I believe you are even more interesting than Idril. Certainly more gamesome."

Compelled to stare at his tormentor, Elrohir glimpsed something that caused his suspicions to coalesce in that instant. The ramblingly told tale with its near-theatrical overtones. The overweening manner, almost flamboyant as to be absurd. The slew of egregious decisions not to mention a distinct failure to sort out priorities. He saw the reason for all these flaws in the depths of his enemy's eyes.

Madness.

Glossary:  
pen neth – young one

_To be continued_…


	111. Bereth 13 The Skin of Their Teeth

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
by Eressë

Chapter XII: By the Skin of Their Teeth  
Elladan cursed loudly as the door began to give way before the combined heft of the orcs behind it. Elbereth! What was taking Gimli so long?!

In the meantime, the Dwarf was filled with glee when a crack began to form in the transparent dome. Hah! It was not indestructible after all! He struck it again. The crack lengthened and deepened. Just a little more.

The door burst open. Snarling irately, Elladan did not wait for the orcs to enter the chamber but plunged his sword repeatedly into the massed bodies jammed in the doorway.

oOoOoOo

Legolas skidded to a stop as he espied the shut door. He frowned, wondering if his senses had deceived him. But then he heard cruel laughter from within and apprehensively peered through the barred opening into the chamber. Such a sight as he had never thought to see greeted his horrified eyes.

Elrohir lay helpless upon a low divan, his tunic and shirt rent, his breeches half unlaced. He was strangely immobile yet the spasmodic clenching of his fingers betrayed his continued resistance to the tawdry attentions of the dark figure hunched over him. Maeglin had forced a kiss upon the twin, prying apart his tightly pressed lips to plunder the recesses of his mouth. Drawing back, he sniggered as Elrohir nearly retched in repulsion.

Legolas hurriedly tried the door but it would not budge. Furiously, he threw his weight against it, exerting all his strength against its unwelcome solidity.

Within, eyes tightly closed in loathing, Elrohir forcibly turned his face away, attempting to evade the greedy mouth that sought to ensnare his lips once more. Chuckling harshly, his tormentor bent low to brutally suckle his exposed throat instead, tainting the pale skin with dark bruises and bite marks.

_Legolas!_

The mental cry of anguish and revulsion issuing from his brave Elf-knight lent Legolas the extra strength he needed. With a mighty heave of his shoulder, he broke down the door and burst into the room. The picture of his binding-mate being subjected to the other's salacious attentions curdled his blood and blackened his rage.

With quicksilver speed, he fit two arrows to his bow and let loose. They caught Elrohir's would-be ravager by the shoulders for Maeglin had leaped to his feet to confront the intruder. The impact of the speeding missiles flung their victim backwards. Moving swiftly, Legolas scooped up Elrohir's fallen sword and hurled it straight at the still stunned Elf. The lethal projectile struck Maeglin squarely in the belly and passed through his body to embed itself with a _thunk_ in the wall behind him.

Not bothering to check his handiwork, Legolas hurried to Elrohir and slipped an arm under his shoulders and back. He lifted him gingerly, pushing the dark hair from his face.

"Elrohir, are you all right?" he asked anxiously. "Are you hurt?"

Elrohir shuddered, turned his face into the prince's shoulder. "Poison on his sword," he breathed harshly. Legolas glanced at the black-bladed weapon on the floor nearby. "It paralyzes the body. I cannot move my limbs."

"I will carry you out then," Legolas decided. "I will take you away from here."

"You will take him nowhere, Elf!"

Legolas whipped his head around and stared in shock at the impaled figure. Maeglin was glaring at him with the iciest orbs he had ever seen. His mouth was curled into a murderous scowl.

"You will pay for this sacrilege, pup," the Elf snarled. He began to impossibly, improbably, pull at the sword that pierced his body.

Instinctively, Legolas grabbed at the sword on the floor. He felt the Elf-warrior's hand on his. In his extreme need, Elrohir had willed his arm into cooperating with him.

"Beware of its edge, Legolas," he cautioned. "One cut will render you helpless yet will have no effect on him. Not until the talisman is destroyed."

Maeglin yanked the offending sword out of his belly and hefted it. He then leisurely plucked the arrows from his shoulders and cast them aside with flamboyant condescension.

"You dared to interrupt my pleasure," he growled, looking down at the prince with menacing regard, scornfully recognizing his Silvan raiment.

"You dared to defile my mate!" Legolas spat.

The dark eyes widened in surprise. Maeglin stared incredulously at Elrohir. "You bound yourself to a mere Wood-elf?" he demanded. "What possessed a high-born Elda like you to demean yourself in such a manner?" He regarded Legolas with jaundiced eyes. "He is a beauty, I have to admit. I suppose you were swayed by that among other things. But be that the reason, you need not have tied yourself to him. You could have bedded him yet left yourself free to seek a more suitable spouse."

Elrohir saw how Legolas' face whitened at the other Elf's contemptuous insinuation. In an instant, he knew the woodland prince, already flayed by guilt, was ready to believe the cruel assessment of his worth.

"Who are you to speak with disdain of one of the noblest princes of the Sindar?" he flared. "Or have you forgotten from whose loins you are sprung, son of Eöl?"

Maeglin bristled at the challenge. "I am the son of Aredhel of the House of Fingolfin," he growled. "Nephew to Turgon, King of Gondolin. My father's base blood has been more than washed away by my mother's great Noldorin lineage." He looked at Legolas sneeringly. "What have you to offer your noble spouse, Sinda?"

Before the prince could respond, Elrohir replied in a more quiet voice but imbued his answer with conviction so stirring it soothed the hurt in Legolas' heart. "More than you can ever imagine or understand, traitor. You are not even an inch of the _Edhel_ that he is."

Maeglin glowered at him angrily. "Such loyalty," he snipped. "I will have to think of a suitable punishment for your insolence." He looked from one prince to the other and seemed to ponder something. The thoughtful gleam in his eyes filled the lovers with renewed apprehension. Legolas clasped Elrohir closer to him, ready to protect the helpless Elf-lord from whatever mischief their foe might choose to wreak upon them.

A cruel smile split the pallid face. Maeglin suddenly chuckled, the sound drenched in pure malice. "What say you, Alieth?" he purred evilly.

A delighted cackle rent the gloom. Legolas gasped in shock, uncertain what devilry lay behind the unseen owner of the unpleasant mirth. Elrohir flinched in his arms and grasped his hand even more tightly.

"Yes, my Lomion," the feminine voice cooed. "Such an excellent idea. Fitting punishment for their demeanor toward you."

For several seconds a stunning but malevolent face shimmered into being in place of Maeglin's pale features. Then it was gone and the younger Elves looked upon the hated countenance once more.

Maeglin circled them mockingly, unmindful of the passing time, uncaring of any sudden attack from Legolas. He knew the fair-haired Elf was well aware of the fruitlessness of such an attempt.

"A pity," he drawled, jeeringly contemplating the archer, his voice now blending eerily with Alieth's. "You are just as comely as your chosen one. But we have no liking for assassins who would dare deprive us of our prized possession. Idril's heir will be ours despite your best efforts, Sinda. But as for you..." He smiled humorlessly. "You will have the dubious privilege of dying by your own beloved's sword. Yet it will not be a swift and merciful death, that we promise you!"

He leered at Elrohir whose face had blanched several shades whiter while Legolas narrowed his eyes with barely contained ire. He added tauntingly: "The last memory you will bear with you to Mandos' Halls will be the sight of your precious Elrohir as we take our pleasure of him. Mayhap we shall even keep him to warm our bed until Middle-earth falls to us. _If_ he survives that long."

His blood seething with the fury of a thousand Wargs, Legolas began to rise to his feet, eager to shed his enemy's blood, nay, rip out his heart or whatever passed for a heart in this demented creature's breast. A hand stayed him. He looked into Elrohir's defiant eyes.

"Give me your knife, Legolas," he whispered. "I will not let that abomination profane my body or spirit."

Legolas nodded and slipped his white-hilted _sigil_ into Elrohir's hand. If he failed to best Maeglin, he knew what the Elf-knight would do. He would sooner take his life and follow Legolas to the timeless Halls rather than endure prolonged savaging at the demonic Elf's mauling hands.

The two combatants faced off, circling slowly, Legolas with understandable caution, Maeglin with chilling confidence.

Elrohir forced his gaze from his mate, concentrated on forming a link with his twin. As soon as he felt Elladan's presence in his mind, he poured all his energy into sending his thoughts to him.

_Elladan, you must destroy the talisman now!_

The answer came swiftly.

_Hold on, _gwanneth _Almost there!_

oOoOoOo

Elladan all but broke the neck of the last orc. He shouted up to Gimli: "Hurry! They are in peril!"

Gimli roared wrathfully at the thought of his friends endangered. With one last heave of his axe, he shattered the dome encircling the talisman. Elated, he brought the blade down hard on the pulsating talisman. The mithril webbing snapped, exposing the crystal. Another blow and a hairline crack appeared on the stone's darkly iridescent surface. Gimli slammed his axe down one more time.

The crystal crumbled under the impact then came apart. The Dwarf leaped back as the blackness within seeped out like a dark mist, eerie tendrils creeping out like the tentacles of some foul creature of the deeps. And then, to his relief, it faded into nothingness.

"Elladan!" Gimli bellowed to the older twin. "'Tis done!"

oOoOoOo

Elrohir harkened to his brother's mental message. _The talisman is no more, _muindor _Do what you must!_

Elrohir turned his eyes to his battling mate. "_Dago den, Legolas!_" he cried imperatively. Kill him!

The archer deftly parried a jab to his chest then slipped under Maeglin's outstretched arm. In one fluid movement, he swung the black sword upward, slicing through the other Elf's lower body, gutting him like a stag being readied for the spit.

Maeglin howled in agony as pain struck his nether regions. He stared down at the gaping wound whence blood dripped and his entrails peeped out. The poison began to make its presence known in his limbs. He staggered backwards, Elrohir's sword falling with a clang to the floor, his hands spasmodically clasping the terrible wound.

"How—?" he gasped, eyes wide with fear and incredulity. "My talisman..."

"Destroyed," Elrohir coldly replied.

Maeglin sank to his now paralyzed knees, clutching at his belly as if to keep his innards from spilling out. But the toxin seeped rapidly into his arms. His hands, now bereft of sensation as well, fell uselessly to his sides and his entrails began to slip out of the open cavity in his abdomen.

The prince stepped closer to the dying Elf, his blue eyes gleaming with glacial satisfaction.

"You will have the privilege of dying by your own sword, thrall of Morgoth," he informed his victim with all the hauteur of a son of Thranduil. "For though you would have shown me no mercy, I am not of your ilk. Extend our greetings to your former master and take your sordid witch with you."

With one quick sweep of the sword, he neatly decapitated the would-be despot. Maeglin gave one abbreviated cry as the blade struck and then all was silence.

Legolas sagged wearily against the wall. Though he was reasonably sure the enemy was dead, he did not take his eyes off the headless corpse on the floor for a while. Maeglin had all but come back from the dead. He could not quite trust that he would not do so again.

He finally turned to find Elrohir struggling to his feet. The poison was apparently starting to wear off. He was at the warrior's side in an instant, lending him his arms for support. As the latter fumbled for the loose lacings on his breeches, his fingers still somewhat lacking in sensation, Legolas quickly took over. When he went on to check him for any hidden injuries, Elrohir glanced up at him curiously, his face still white from the terror and exertion of the past few hours. He felt the archer's hand brush his dark hair from his shoulder.

Legolas sucked his breath in sharply when he saw the bruises and bite marks on the side of Elrohir's neck, reminders of the enemy's assault on him. He felt his heart clench with remembered horror. The very thought of his proud Elf-knight ravaged, dishonored, reduced to a mere bed-treat, clutched insidiously at the edges of his mind.

With a groan, he drew Elrohir into a near-crushing embrace and pressed his lips against the dark stains, as if to kiss away the desecrations on the twin's white skin. Elrohir could not help a sharp gasp at the heated caresses Legolas bestowed on his flesh. At the sound, the archer lifted his head and captured his mouth in a feverish kiss, one hand gripping a fistful of sable silk. Unable to resist, Elrohir gave in to the ferocity of the archer's willful advances.

His lips were quite swollen from the prince's ardor by the time he was finally released. He looked into Legolas' still troubled eyes, wondering if he would ever learn to deny the archer his love, admitting even as he thought it that it would never happen while he had life and breath in his body.

"I nearly lost you," Legolas murmured, his voice catching slightly.

"And I, you," Elrohir responded, resting his head on the other's shoulder. Though feeling was returning to his limbs by the minute, he was still unsteady on his feet and had to lean against the prince for support.

"Would it have mattered to you?" Legolas queried in a low voice.

Elrohir raised his head in surprise and peered at the prince with a slight frown. "I was ready to turn your knife upon myself had he bested you," he said quietly. "I would have followed you to the Halls of Awaiting, Calenlass."

Legolas swallowed hard, his eyes tearing. "You have not called me thus for many a day," he whispered.

Elrohir hesitated then sighed. "I was resentful of you," he admitted.

"And now?"

The younger twin's answer was a tight hug. It did not completely allay the archer's anxieties but it calmed him down considerably. And for the moment, it was enough.

Glossary:  
Edhel - Elf  
sigil – knife or dagger  
gwanneth – younger twin  
muindor – brother

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	112. Bereth 14 Not Quite Over

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIII: Not Quite Over  
Legolas insisted that Elrohir sit and rest for a spell. His mate looked worn and oh so weary in spirit. That was not to be wondered at considering what he had been subjected to. The archer only hoped that there were no more hidden perils to plague them anew.

They were startled when, several minutes later, Elladan and Gimli burst into the chamber. Elrohir visibly relaxed when he saw it was his twin and Dwarf friend who had come.

"You certainly took your time," he gibed his brother tiredly, taking note of Elladan's grimed and gory appearance.

The older twin snorted. "Try being quicker while holding off a pack of orcs," he retorted. And then he fell on his knees before Elrohir and hugged him snugly. "Thank Eru you are safe," he whispered.

"Gimli! You are hurt!" Legolas exclaimed. He bent to examine his friend's battered shoulder.

"Ah! Just a scratch," Gimli said dismissively. He frowned when he saw the dark-robed body and the severed head on the floor. "Is that—?"

At Legolas' grim nod, he walked over and with his toe, gingerly turned the head over. He looked at the others in confusion.

"I thought Maeglin was an _ellon_"—male Elf—he said.

"He is – was," Legolas agreed. "Why—?"

He stopped and stared at the dead face. It was the female countenance he'd briefly glimpsed earlier that he now looked upon, framed by dark red hair already stiff with congealed blood. He glanced at the body and was disconcerted to find a curvaceous form beneath the robes.

"It cannot be!" he blurted out.

"It can," Elrohir said. "His _faer_ is gone. He no longer shares her body."

"He shared her body?" Elladan questioned incredulously.

The Elf-knight sighed. "'Tis a long story and an odious one. I will tell you later. For now there are things still to be done."

Elladan nodded. "Aye, we must destroy this hold. We cannot allow it to become a haven for unsavory creatures."

Elrohir frowned. "Speaking of unsavory creatures, Maeglin claimed he had an army of orcs encamped just below this fortress."

"He did," Gimli replied. "We could see the scum from the tower. Though I hesitate to call it an army. More like a rabble of brainless beasts if you ask me."

Elladan wryly smiled. "They fled soon after Gimli destroyed the crystal. I wager 'twas what Maeglin used to control them."

"But their armor and weapons?" Legolas queried. "I dislike the idea of orcs so well shielded and armed running amuck."

Elladan shook his head. "From what I could see, they were not armed as the orcs within the fortress were. I suspect that Maeglin had not made enough galvorn to outfit all his minions."

Elrohir looked at the corpse somberly. "That begs a question, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—he murmured. "Do we keep or destroy what he did make?"

Legolas grimaced with distaste. "I do not care to touch what he forged," he declared. "They are cursed by his evil and would only bring ruin to whoever dares to wield them."

"I agree," Gimli said. "I say we destroy everything."

Elrohir only nodded.

oOoOoOo

They let fire consume and cleanse the place. When the flames hungrily ate every combustible material within their searing grasp, including supporting frames and buttresses, the keep's very structure weakened. As the Elves and Dwarf watched from outside the main gate, the roof of the main wing gave in, followed by the turret. At last, they made their way down the hill, the roar and rumble of fire and crumbling masonry resounding in their ears.

The Elves called to their steeds and within minutes the beasts obeyed their summons and approached them. Mounting, they took one last look at the stronghold then rode away.

They travelled without stopping to get as far as they could from the burning fortress. They could not put enough distance between them and the stench of the hold's lingering evil. Finally, when all they could see were black clouds of smoke, they felt comfortable enough to take a much-needed rest.

They led their mounts to a running stream and let the animals drink their fill while they washed the grime and gore from their hands and faces, ignoring the bite of the icy water. Here, as they sat for a while by the water, Elrohir finally told them all he knew of their vanquished foe. His listeners were, by turns, shocked, horrified and enraged by his account. Finally, they rose to their feet and made ready to go. Elrohir looked back at the smoke billowing over the horizon.

"We were fortunate," he said in a low voice.

"Fortunate?" Gimli nearly choked.

"Aye. For all his bombast, Maeglin was no Sauron. Not in wisdom or strength or cunning. And he was not completely sane though he hid it well at first."

Legolas looked at him curiously. "How do you know this?"

The Elf-knight glanced back at him with haunted eyes. "I knew his tale for truth but he raved like one demented as he related it. He sounded at times like a child who believes he will get something simply because he desires it. At others, he spoke as though he was performing before an audience. And to claim himself the equal of the Dark Lord and that he would best him in a year's time..." He shook his head. "I soon suspected that he was tainted with a touch of lunacy. When he sought to – to violate me, I saw his eyes and that confirmed my suspicions. I knew then that his mind was no longer whole."

Elladan reached out and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I suppose his mind could not remain whole in light of what he had lived through," he remarked. "And if you think about it, Maeglin may have been ancient in the sheer number of years of his existence but in terms of learning and experience, he was really younger than us. He was not even two hundred years old when our forefather defeated him."

"I had forgotten about that," Elrohir admitted. "That and his lunacy would certainly account for so many of his lapses. His theatrical manner. His haphazard planning. His lack of adequate preparation. His idiotic priorities." He let out a humorless gust of laughter. "He ignored what was happening outside his keep in favor of taking his pleasure of me! What greater madness can there be than that?"

Elladan wryly grinned. "Well, you _are_ a potent distraction, _gwanneth_!" —younger twin!

Elrohir rolled his eyes and threw a light punch at his brother's arm.

"But you have to admit he did one thing right," Gimli said. "He chose the best location for his confounded fortress. That place is so isolated, no one marked its presence at all."

"True," Legolas murmured. "Had Elrohir not broached the idea of searching these mountains, none would have known of his existence." He stared at the column of smoke that continued to mar the horizon. "Methinks my people will have to give thought to exploring the Ered Mithrin once in a while. I do not care for another Maeglin hiding in its depths or heights."

"Nor I," Elrohir agreed. "His mind may have been unsound but had he succeeded in unleashing his creatures – I shudder to imagine the results of such an invasion."

"We would have beaten him," Gimli asserted confidently.

"But at what cost?" Elrohir said. "I am relieved we stopped it before it began."

"What of the sorceress?" Legolas asked curiously. "Was she mad as well?"

"Mayhap not," Elrohir said. "But after sharing the same body for so long with Maeglin, I think she had ceased to think for herself. I imagine she allowed him to plan for both of them. All she cared for were the results of their scheming. After all, she had been a mere servant of Sauron. She could and did dabble in the dark arts and efficiently at that. But she was a follower, not a leader."

"At least she rid the mountains of the cold-drakes," Elladan remarked. He glanced at Gimli. "Your folk may return to these parts now. After all, what are mere orcs to you?"

Gimli snickered. "I will suggest it to Thorin," he grinned. "Mayhap with Dwarves frequenting these mountains again, there will be no need to worry about more resurrected Elves showing up!" He started as something cold dropped upon his nose. He looked about and saw the slow white dappling of their surroundings. "Am I imagining things or is it starting to snow?" he demanded.

The others looked about as well and shook their heads. "You are not imagining things," Legolas told him. He glanced at Elrohir. "This winter's oddities? Was that their doing as well?"

"Alieth's most likely," the Elf-knight replied. "She possessed a talent for manipulating weather. Witness how she slew the cold-drakes."

"Well, whatever she did, it's being undone now," Gimli grumbled. "Let us find shelter at once. I am in no hurry to suffer from frostbite after managing to survive orcs, a spider and the schemes of a raving lunatic!"

But the snowfall proved gradual and sporadic. And for the time being, it was confined to the upper reaches of the mountains. Traveling a little further down they soon left the snowline behind. They finally set up camp in a sheltered thicket halfway down the slope.

While the others built a fire and broke out food and drink, Legolas busied himself with currying his horse. Elrohir approached him. The prince was as visibly fatigued as his steed and the warrior looked at him with some concern.

"You can do that later, Calenlass," he murmured. "You are weary."

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, I am not that tired."

"Legolas, you are trembling from exhaustion," Elrohir pointed out. "Even Gimli can see that. Please, come and take some rest."

"I am no Elfling!" the archer flared without warning. "I will not be treated like a mewling infant!"

Elrohir stared at him in shock and fast-dawning disappointment. His lips tightening, he spun on his heel and would have stridden away but for the sudden grip on his arm. He glanced back angrily to meet Legolas' remorseful gaze.

"I am sorry," the prince said contritely. "I did not mean to snap at you."

Elrohir let out a frustrated sigh. "After all we have been through, I thought—" He halted when he saw Legolas flinch. He looked away for a moment, striving to keep his own temper in check. After a space he looked at the archer again. "We have to talk, Legolas," he grimly said. "I cannot—" He drew a deep breath. "I am at the end of my forbearance."

He saw the fear that flickered across the prince's countenance. The grip on his hand tightened as Legolas unconsciously pulled him closer.

"You are not..." Legolas swallowed hard. "You are not thinking of...of leaving me," he whispered shakily. "Are you?"

Elrohir half-glared at him. "We are bound," he tersely replied. "Like it or not, we are stuck with each other for eternity." His choice of words elicited a pained gasp from the golden-haired Elf and he instantly repented of them. But he could not unsay either the truth or his frustration. "I do not regret our binding," he said more calmly. "But there are matters we must resolve before things get any worse than they are already. We will discuss this when we get back to Greenwood."

Legolas almost timidly nodded. Elrohir turned away and walked back to the others. He sat beneath the eaves of a sturdy tree and stared into the flames of the campfire, unmindful of his brother and Gimli's surreptitious glances at him.

After a few tense moments, Legolas came to him and knelt by his side. He stared at the archer, eyes still stern.

Legolas gazed at him uncertainly. "You are right, I do need to rest," he conceded meekly. "May I stay with you?" he added hesitantly.

The Elf-knight's gaze did not waver or soften as he thoughtfully regarded his errant mate. Feeling as if his heart would burst, Legolas bit his lower lip and made to rise, his fair face now ashen. But he was stayed by a firm grip on his arm. He looked at Elrohir apprehensively.

Wordlessly, Elrohir leaned back against the tree and motioned to Legolas to lie down and lay his head on his lap. Drawing in a relieved breath, the archer gratefully accepted the silent invitation. Flushing at Elladan and Gimli's questioning stares, he resolutely turned towards Elrohir, one arm curling tightly around the Elf-lord's waist. He pressed his hot face into his mate's taut stomach. A moment later, he felt a soothing hand upon his back, while the other stroked his hair gently. Though anxiety still nipped at the edges of his consciousness, the comforting touch of his spouse proved the stronger and he soon drifted off into sleep.

Glossary:  
faer – Sindarin for spirit

_To be continued_…


	113. Bereth 15 Receptions

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIV: Receptions  
They reached the foothills of the mountains in time to meet the force of Elven warriors Thranduil had mustered to go after them. The Elvenking himself led the contingent. So relieved was he to find them alive and fairly well that he enveloped each in a hearty, heartfelt hug, even an entertainingly flustered Gimli. The most caustic of scoldings followed, however, when he learned a bit of what they had done.

"I feel as if I've aged another five centuries!" he exclaimed after the telling. "What were you thinking, taking on the enemy by yourselves!"

Legolas flushed a deep red. Feeling like an adolescent again caught in mischief, he said: "Forgive us, _Ada_. But we feared the worst and sought to prevent it from happening."

Thranduil all but rolled his eyes in exasperation. "And I thought you had more sense than to try something as foolhardy as that!"

Legolas and even Gimli looked properly abashed but, amazingly, the twins did not.

"As Legolas said, forgive us, _Adar_, for troubling you so," Elladan said. "But in truth, we did what we deemed best."

Elrohir added: "When we laid eyes on Maeglin's hold, we still had the choice to retreat or attack. When we assessed his strength, we knew we could best him."

Thranduil stared at his law-sons in patent disbelief. "You thought you could take on an entire garrison of orcs?" he gasped.

Both shrugged. "'Tis hardly more difficult than taking on a whole tribe of battle-trained goblins," Elladan said.

Legolas started then gazed at Elrohir, frowning slightly. "I accused you of that very charge yet you denied it," he remarked a little sourly.

Elrohir shook his head. "I did not deny it," he pointed out. "I said we never took on more than we knew we could handle."

What Legolas thought of such guileful dissimulation he chose not to voice though his eyes glittered perilously. Thranduil, on the other, after being struck dumb, found his tongue. "You think highly of your abilities, _gwenyn_"—twins—he commented.

Elrohir smiled grimly. "We spent five hundred years in the wilds doing just this, _Adar_"—Father—he softly said.

At that, Gimli growled. "Oh, my sainted aunt! I should have known you two would indulge in some hare-brained schemes along the way!"

"I do not recall you protesting overmuch, Master Dwarf," Elladan reminded him. "Does that mean you are as inclined to hare-brained schemes as we are?"

He grinned as the Dwarf let loose a string of jaw-cracking curses. Thank Eru only he and Elrohir truly understood Dwarvish else he could only imagine the complexions Thranduil and Legolas would have taken on.

The Elvenking let out a resigned sigh. "Valinor is beginning to look more and more attractive to me," he declared at length. "Ai, tell me what you will as we go. I confess I am anxious to hear the full tale."

By the time the Elven force reached the delved palace, Thranduil was no longer so anxious as astounded, fascinated and downright infuriated, the last not so much with their now fallen foe but with the four who had brought about his fall. If they had thought his earlier admonitions stinging enough, they soon learned the true meaning of a royal dressing-down. Legolas and Gimli were seen to wince at some particular choice bits and even the twins were hard-pressed to maintain their dignified miens in the face of such severity. Therefore it was with great relief that they came to the palace for the king calmed down at last and ceased to bombard their eardrums with scathing reprimands.

Elladan's first order of business was to seek his wife. But even as they started for the residential pavilion, they were met by an Elf-woman newly come from the healing halls.

"Majesty!" she hailed Thranduil. "I was sent to inform you. Your daughter is in labor and—" Elladan was off like a shot ere she finished her sentence. "—they wish to know if Lord Elladan desires to be with her."

Elrohir shook his head. "He will fall apart," he said. "'Tis one thing to deliver the babes of others, another to welcome his own into the world."

He hurried after Elladan. That left Gimli and Legolas staring after him. Thranduil let out a loud sigh. "I only pray this child will not take after its father overmuch!" he wryly said.

They followed the twins to the healing halls.

Elrohir's assessment of his brother's state of mind proved mirthfully accurate. He drove everyone to distraction with his anxious blundering and ill-founded concerns. Indeed, it seemed he'd forgotten everything he'd ever learned about the birthing of Elflings. Nimeithel was more collected than he was even while caught in the strains of labor. Though she lovingly welcomed him back with the most tender of kisses, she soon begged Elrohir to take her husband in hand. Taking pity on the beleaguered healers and midwives, the Elf-knight grabbed his twin and hauled him bodily out of the birthing chamber.

There, while an amused Elvenking, woodland prince and Dwarf-lord looked on, he exhorted Elladan to get a hold of himself.

"You must becalm yourself, _gwaniuar_, if you wish to be by her side," he advised his quaking brother. "By Elbereth, you are a hallowed warrior, accustomed to blood and pain. Do not shame yourself now, brother!"

Elladan caught himself at that. Taking a moment to recover his equanimity, he nodded at Elrohir then re-entered the chamber with his brother. When Elrohir returned without him, the others assumed he had stopped being a nuisance to his wife and the healers.

"You have a gift for understatement, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—Thranduil remarked facetiously. "He did not merely fall apart, he nigh crumbled to pieces."

Elrohir chuckled. "It is ever thus with the fathers we have seen through the years. The more valorous they are in battle, the more certain it is that they will all but collapse should they witness their wives in labor!"

"Then you should be grateful that you won't have that problem!" Gimli snickered.

"Aye, that is one benefit of binding to another _ellon_"—male Elf—Elrohir smiled. He glanced at Legolas who in turn was looking at him rather wistfully.

He wondered at his mercurial mate's odd mood and was about to question him about it when Elladan poked his head out of the birthing chamber and said with a mysterious grin: "Elrohir, would you please join me for a moment?"

Looking at his twin curiously, the Elf-knight did as he was bid. A few minutes later, a piercing wail rent the stillness of the halls, startling the three who waited outside. It went on for while, doubling in volume along the way.

"That is one lusty babe," Gimli remarked admiringly. "What lungs he must have!"

"It may be a maid-child," Legolas said.

"With a voice like that?" the Dwarf snorted. "I pity the Elf-maid who possesses such a bawl!"

Finally the wailing ended and they waited again, this time a little impatiently. They glanced up when Elrohir came out. Bearing a tiny bundle in his arms. They all surged forward excitedly.

The twin gently pushed back the swaddling and they looked upon the first child born of the union between Imladris and Greenwood.

"A son?" Legolas queried, noting the small but strong hands that clutched hardily at the enclosing mantle.

"Aye," Elrohir replied softly. "As is the other."

The three stared at him in mute stupefaction.

"The other?" Thranduil repeated faintly.

The three caught their breaths as another loud wail assailed their ears. They looked at Elrohir in stunned disbelief. None could speak from the shock.

"Twins?" Legolas finally all but croaked when the cries ceased.

"Twins," Elladan confirmed as he came out of the chamber cradling another wee bundle in his arms.

There was a concerted gasp. "Twins born of a twin?" Gimli spluttered.

"Who himself was born of a twin," Thranduil finished for him, awe limning his voice. "Will wonders never cease?" He looked at Elladan. His older law-son was incandescent with joy. The usually wintry eyes warmed with affection. "Elrond would have been so proud," the king told him. "You will bring him and your mother an immeasurable gift when you pass West, _gwaniuar_."

Elladan's answering smile was more than beautiful. It was heart stopping. He was the picture of fatherly pride, tenderness and protectiveness. He looked upon his sons with unabashed love, blessing the crown of the babe in his brother's arms with a kiss before pressing his lips to the cheek of the infant he held.

"Have you named them?" Thranduil inquired, gazing besottedly at his newest grandchildren.

Elladan nodded. "That one is Elendir," he said with a wide smile for his firstborn. "And this one," he continued, handing the younger into his delighted law-father's arms, "is Elros."

"Elros!" Legolas softly exclaimed. "That will most definitely please your father."

The twins grinned even more happily. Looking at them and at the infants, one who was not well acquainted with either would have been hard-put to decide which of them was the father. Elrohir looked as doting as Elladan, Legolas thought musingly. Well, if his past record with his king-brother and royal nephew of Gondor was any indication, he did not doubt that these newborns would one day come to adore their Uncle Elf-knight as well.

It was while he was gazing at tiny Elendir that a wave of envy came over him. He chided himself, thinking how absurd it was that he should be envious of a babe just because it was presently being cuddled by Elrohir. But then, there had been woefully little tenderness between himself and the younger twin for quite some time now.

His sudden pensiveness was not missed by his mate. Or his father.

Elrohir regarded him a moment with searching eyes before hearkening to his brother's request that they bring the infants back to Nimeithel. Legolas stared at his spouse as he returned to the birthing chamber with Elladan and the babies.

Gimli heaved a happy sigh. "Ah, that was a splendid welcome indeed!" he grinned. He glanced at Legolas. "But now, if you don't mind, I would very much like to take a long hot bath and then get a decent meal."

"By all means, Gimli," the prince smiled wanly. "Take your ease. I will see you later at dinner."

He watched his friend saunter away. Turning back, he found his father looking at him keenly.

"_Ada?_"—Papa?—he said wonderingly.

"Legolas, come with me," Thranduil said. "I would have a word with you."

He led the way to his study. Firmly shutting the door behind them the Elvenking turned to study his youngest son. Legolas seemed suddenly ill at ease; he had walked to one of the windows and was absently picking at the curtain framing it. Thranduil frowned with concern.

"_Iôn_? Do you regret your binding to Elrohir?" he queried.

Legolas turned his head sharply and stared at him. "Of course not! What made you think that, _Ada_?"

Thranduil shrugged. "I only wondered. In truth, I had wanted to talk with you ere you left for the mountains."

"About what?" It was said casually enough but Thranduil noted that his son could not quite meet his gaze.

"There is a... rift between the two of you that I have never felt in all your millennia of friendship," he replied. "I thought that perhaps you had come to rue committing yourself to so permanent a relationship."

"Nay, I do not regret it in the least," Legolas said. He hesitated then said in a low, despondent voice. "Though mayhap Elrohir does despite his claims to the contrary."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. So, his son had finally realized the depth of his previous folly. "And why do you say that?"

Legolas bit his lower lip then sighed unhappily. "I made mistakes," he whispered. "More mistakes than he can endure."

"Irreparable ones?" Thranduil pressed, wondering at the extent of the damage done to their bond.

The prince swallowed painfully. "I – I pray not." He turned away, his hands reaching out to grasp fistfuls of drapery. Thranduil worriedly noted the whitened knuckles on his clenched hands. Legolas let go of the curtains and turned back to his father. "I am so afraid, _Ada_. He – he might – leave me because of this."

The king shook his head. "He waited centuries to make you his. I cannot imagine that he would forsake you now that he owns your hard-won love."

"But what if he no longer thinks it worth his forbearance?" Legolas said, his voice harsh with anguish. "What then? _Ada_, if he leaves me, I will not— Ai, even the thought terrifies me!"

Thranduil swiftly crossed the chamber to take his shaking son into his arms. "He will not leave you, Legolas! 'Twas for love of you that he chose eternity over the Gift of Men. You were ever his reason for holding to life, to living."

"But I have proven myself unworthy of his regard," Legolas near moaned. "I – I fear I have sullied myself in his eyes beyond redemption." He clutched at his father anxiously. "The worst of it is that I do not know why I did any of it. All I know is that I have hurt him grievously. He – he said it himself. He can no longer tolerate my transgressions against him."

Thranduil stroked his son's fair hair soothingly. "Have you ever talked about this matter before?" he gently inquired.

Legolas shook his head. "He tried," he admitted. "But I would always show my displeasure that he – he..."

"Gave up trying to broach it," the king finished for him.

"Aye," the prince said shamefacedly.

Thranduil sighed. "You should have let Elrohir have his say early on. It might have saved both of you much grief." He drew away and looked at his crestfallen son. "But if I have read him right, your Elf-knight will not give you up without a fight, _iôn_. 'Tis not his nature to surrender so quickly or easily."

Legolas raised apprehensive eyes to his sire. "He told me we needed to talk," he confided.

"Indeed, you do," Thranduil agreed. "Go to him, Legolas. And this time, do not hide your doubts or fears. If you truly love him, if you treasure your bond, you will do this without further delay."

Legolas drew a tremulous breath then nodded. Silently, he slipped out of his father's embrace and left the study. Thranduil watched him go, worry etched in his countenance. A silent entreaty winged its way to the Powers as the Elvenking prayed for his youngest son's victory in this, a battle no less daunting than any he had ever faced before.

Glossary:  
gwaniuar – older twin  
iôn – son

_To be continued_…


	114. Bereth 16a The Elven Way

**AN:** Again, due to length, this chapter had to be posted in two parts.

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XV: The Elven Way  
His thoughts all a-jumble as he awaited Elrohir, Legolas stared unseeingly at the text of the open book upon his lap.

After his talk with his sire, he had thought a visit with Nimeithel and her infants would soothe his frazzled spirit. But one glimpse of Elrohir gently laying little Elros in his cradle beside his brother, the most tender of smiles gracing his sinuous lips, accomplished the opposite. Not only did it remind him all over again of what was lacking in their relationship but also reawakened his long-unquenched desire for his mate. He retreated from so enticing a sight lest it best him there and then and led him to do something rash. Not to mention highly inappropriate within the healing halls.

He had then wandered aimlessly about the palace grounds, trying to sort out his feelings and calm his nerves. But he had not quite succeeded by the time he met up with Gimli in the dining hall. It did not help any when Elrohir failed to join him but sent word instead that the healers had already released Nimeithel and her sons from their care and that he was helping Elladan settle his family in their apartment. He found that the longer he had to wait to be with Elrohir, the more nervous he became.

After dinner, he returned to their chamber and took a good long soak, letting the warm water ease his travel-worn body and worry-muddled mind. Drawing on a thin bed-shirt and trousers, he sat on the bed and tried to distract himself with a good book.

But the book remained unread upon his lap as his mind refused to comprehend its contents. It was preoccupied with other, less calming ideas.

He started visibly when the object of his thoughts suddenly entered their apartment. Elrohir smiled tiredly at him before quietly taking out fresh clothing and entering the bathing chamber. Legolas almost forgot to breath as he listened to the sounds that emanated from within the adjoining room. His imagination provided overly vivid images of his mate bathing and that only served to fire up his body. That distressed him. He did not need his fevered stirrings to further roil his already befuddled thoughts.

When at last Elrohir emerged from the bathing chamber, he did not know whether to be pleased or perturbed.

Elrohir's damp raven hair hung between his shoulder blades like black silk. And his raiment clung to his still bath-moist body, calling attention to its splendid proportions. He had donned thin night-trousers and a matching bed-robe. But the robe was partly open, as Elrohir had not bothered to tie the belt snugly around his waist. And so the lights from candle and hearth played teasingly upon the sculpted plains of his exposed torso and the shallow valley that defined his broad chest.

Legolas swallowed hard as smoldering images flooded his mind. He strove to set them aside when Elrohir did not come to their bed but walked to the hearth instead and silently regarded the flames for a while. It was quite obvious that bed-play was nowhere on the Elf-knight's mind whatever the state of his mate's. Another tempering point was that Elrohir seldom wore more than sleeping trousers to bed; for him to throw on a robe was another indication of his deferment of all things carnal at present.

The prince set aside the book and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "How is Elladan holding up?" he asked.

Elrohir turned to look at him. "Well enough under the circumstances," he grinned with true humor.

Legolas was heartened by his reaction. "What is it about the Peredhil and twins?" he remarked. "Is your line bewitched that there must be a set in every generation?"

Elrohir chuckled at the notion. Legolas felt hope flare up in his heart. Elrohir's laugh had sounded genuinely merry. It had not been so far longer than the archer cared to remember. Despite his acknowledgement that his father was correct and that they should resolve the matter between them soonest, he could not help wishing to delay the inevitable confrontation. But just as he thought himself spared this night, the twin's smile faded and he glanced at the archer somberly.

"I never meant to confine you," he said quietly.

Legolas started at the sudden change in topic. "I know you did not," he replied softly. "You only wished to protect me."

Elrohir nodded. "I cannot help it," he said. "From the moment I loved you it has been there, this need to protect and nurture. And it has strengthened since I bound myself to you."

"I realize that now," Legolas responded. "But I am a warrior, Elrohir, born and bred to fight. I can take care of myself."

Elrohir gazed at him, his thoughts hidden, much to the archer's frustration and concern.

"I know you can," the twin finally answered. "Else I would not have been able to watch you go when you left on the Quest." He frowned. "'Tis not your abilities I wonder about, Legolas. 'Tis your continued independence of me that I question."

The prince stared at him. "But I rely on you. More than I ever thought possible."

Elrohir shook his head. "You are still separate from me," he explained pensively. "Even when you bound yourself to me, you did not—" He sighed. "You did not surrender yourself to me as I did to you."

Legolas fell silent. "I am yours, Elrohir," he said at length. "Surely you do not doubt that. But I must keep a part of myself free. I have always savored it, the freedom to think and act and do as I will. I do not relish being restricted by...by expectations and traditions."

He felt a sudden pang when Elrohir's visage saddened. "Then you did not truly understand what binding to me would entail," the warrior said. "But I suppose that should be no surprise. You once vowed never to give your heart to anyone and therefore did not trouble to learn the ways of our kindred in matters of love and espousal. Someone—I should have told you all the consequences that you might have made an informed decision. My error. I wrongly assumed you understood at least this much."

Legolas' anxiety rekindled. "What did I not understand?" he asked.

"That to our kind, to wed is to become one with the other, heart, body and spirit. There is no you and I...or there should not be. There should only be us – one whole and we the two halves that make it so.

He sank down into the couch by the hearth, his eyes turning to the window and the forest view beyond. "We are not like Mortal-kind. We cleave wholly and willingly to our mates. True bindings require total commitment." He looked back at the archer. "I always desire your well-being, to take care of you and your needs, and I yearn for your nurturing in return. And I have never felt 'restricted' by your desire to protect me yet I am as stubborn and independent as you are. 'Tis the knowledge that you do it out of love that makes it acceptable and even desirable. Our bond demands it of us and ignites it in our hearts."

"At least," he hesitated, "in my heart. You do not seem to feel it as I do."

"But I do," Legolas protested. He paused, suddenly discomfited. "Though I confess I have been fighting it."

Stunned silence filled the room for several seconds.

"You fought the pull?!" Elrohir was incredulous.

"I did not like the feeling of being led...of not being in control of my own desires and impulses," the archer answered honestly.

His mate stared at him in shocked comprehension.

"That explains your demeanor with me," he said in a disbelieving voice. "'Tis no wonder you have been so brusque and demanding. You have been spending all your energy battling the pull and the very effort has curdled your sweet temper." He stared at Legolas speculatively, which made the Wood-elf uneasy.

"Do you recall that incident three years ago when I came north without you?" he said. "You sent me letters of such fearsome desperation that I returned to you sooner than planned."

Legolas flushed uncomfortably as he remembered the contents of those missives. Never had he written so mawkishly before or since.

"Aye, I remember," he murmured reluctantly.

"You had already began to distance yourself from me even then," Elrohir quietly said. "But that was the longest time we'd spent apart since our binding. My long absence must have caused you to feel the pull more acutely than you could bear. Hence your frenzied need for me when I returned to you."

Legolas started at the observation. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at having his secret struggle laid bare so completely and succinctly.

"'Tis also the reason why you run from me should we couple more lovingly than usual," Elrohir continued musingly. "You do not want to need me overmuch; you think it a snare that robs you of your will. But the pull overcomes you nonetheless and so you strike back however you may...at me."

"You speak nonsense, Elrohir," Legolas barked. "I am _not_ overcome!"

"Nay? Listen to yourself just now, Calenlass," Elrohir softly suggested.

The prince inhaled sharply, recognizing the edge his voice had taken. "That was not intended," he said more temperedly.

"I know," Elrohir acknowledged. "But it grieves me to learn the cause...the reason why you have been so combative of late and why you have not been as – as solicitous of me as expected of one who is espoused."

Legolas shook his head in vehement denial. "'Tis not natural for me to play the tender lover," he reasoned. "I was well-trained in the arts of war but not in courtship."

A raven eyebrow rose in tacit scepticism. "My grandsire, Celeborn, is a lord and warrior without peer and has lived such a life since the Elder days," the Elf-lord pointed out. "Yet he never resented it when my grandam, Galadriel, wove spells of enchantment to protect him or give him ease. He knew she did it out of love for him and cherished her efforts all the more because of this knowledge. You cannot have failed to see this in your own father, a warrior king of great renown yet a most tender spouse to your _naneth_. As is my _adar_ to my mother and Glorfindel to Erestor, Elladan to your sister and even Estel to Arwen though he is many generations removed from our shared Elven forebears."

Chagrin skewered the prince as Elrohir concluded the formidable list that rendered his previous excuse hollow. "You are right, I did not know," Legolas finally conceded in a low voice. "I thought you were only being..."

"Over protective? Too demanding of your attentions?" At the other's mute nod, Elrohir looked away once more. "Nay, 'twas the binding of my spirit to yours that guided me. But if you felt it as well yet managed to resist it, then…" He trailed off uncertainly. He drew a deep steadying breath. "Elves are bound, not delivered into bondage," he murmured. "We exchange one kind of freedom for another. If you do not see this, if you cannot accept it, then 'tis no surprise you were able to fight the pull...which no true binding-mate should have been able to do."

The prince's eyes widened in patent dismay. "What are you saying?" he demanded. "That we are not truly bound?"

Elrohir's expression turned unsure and melancholic. "I do not know," he admitted. "I have never heard of a binding where one spouse felt as you do. But if you went into this withholding a part of yourself, then the vows you uttered were but words and you did not really seal yourself to me."

"But the blood Rite! Surely that—"

"Would be akin to a couple who have children despite a loveless marriage. The blood Rite confirms the vows just as children are tangible evidence of the promises between husband and wife. But 'tis our will, our cleaving hearts, our conscious choice that make our oaths true. Only in the full surrender of two Elves to each other are the vows duly sealed."

At the archer's appalled expression, Elrohir felt sorrow wash over him. "You truly did not know," he whispered. "You were not prepared to be bound."

"But I was – I am!" Legolas cried fiercely. "I love you, Aduial. I gave you my heart!"

"Nay, Legolas. If you had, you would not have resented my efforts to care for you or be your shield." Elrohir now gazed at him with the awful authority of a true son of Elrond. "Nor would you have resisted the compulsion to cherish me. And you would not have demeaned me as you so oft did, intentionally or not. You did not surrender to me and do not wish to. I may possess your body fully but only a portion of your heart and a fragment of your spirit. You are not mine. Not wholly. Not yet."

Legolas felt the distance between them yawn wider than ever. So it had been since their quarrel amidst the hills of the Ered Mithrin. It had darkened his days, blackened his nights. Even their couplings, no matter how fierce or consuming, had not dispelled the feeling of separateness.

He had reveled in the intimacy their binding had wrought; had savored the security of Elrohir's closeness whether in body or spirit. Now he realized he alone had known this wonder, this contentment, for Elrohir had given himself wholly and freely. But the Elf-knight could not have felt quite the same joy. Not if Legolas had failed to give himself as completely as he had promised at their Rites.

Shame shriveled him anew as did remorse, grief and trepidation. The knowledge that Elrohir need not have suffered because of his stupidity weighed heavily on him. All he'd had to do was tell someone – anyone – about his conflicted feelings. His father, Elladan, Nimeithel, most especially Elrohir himself. Enlightenment would have come sooner and prevented his misguided attempts to extricate himself from his seemingly alarming addiction to Elrohir. An addiction that he now understood was wholly natural and even expected of him. Had he set aside his reservations, he would not then have subjected his mate to so much hurt and humiliation. But no, he had let his misbegotten pride and recalcitrance rule him and in the process irrevocably tarnished himself in Elrohir's eyes.

Will I ever be worthy of him? Legolas thought disconsolately. How could an ignorant, wrong-headed woodland Elf ever be a fitting match for a scion of exalted, lore-steeped Imladris?

As the feelings of dread and wretchedness increased, tears started to roll down his cheeks and tremors began to wrack his body. He hunched down, his hands clenched convulsively on his lap, and wept unabashedly. The last time he had shed tears so copiously had been after his beloved mother's death. But was not this the same thing? He was about to lose someone even more beloved to his heart and spirit. He could not conceive of any reason why Elrohir would wish to remain with him.

_End of Part 1. Continue to Part 2…_


	115. Bereth 16b The Elven Way

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XV: The Elven Way (Part 2)  
"I am sorry," he sobbed harshly. "You should not have loved me, Elrohir. I am not worth it. I do naught but bring you pain, taint you with my touch. Maeglin was right. You should have chosen someone as learned as you, a highborn Noldo, and not a benighted Sinda like me. I am not fit for—"

His self-castigation was abruptly cut off when strong arms encircled him and pulled him close against a hard, reassuring chest. He flung his arms around the twin, holding him desperately, as if afraid the other would forsake him. Soothing hands stroked his hair and a low voice whispered loving words into his ear.

"Hush, do not blame yourself, Calenlass. I am sorry, too. I did not intend to make you doubt your worth. 'Tis not your fault; you did not know. Not that it would matter whether you knew or not. I love you. I always will."

When the prince still shook violently in his arms, he said grimly, "I would kill Maeglin again for slighting you so cruelly. He spoke falsely, _melethron nîn_. I want no one else. You are all I need, all I want. You have brought me more joy than I'd ever hoped for." He felt the enclosing arms tighten around him further. "I loved you even when you struggled against your feelings for me," he murmured. "I can hardly cease now when you have given me your love at last."

"Only to hold back once more what should have been yours in full," Legolas flayed himself. "I am but a foolish, obstinate Elf who was fortunate enough to catch your eye."

Elrohir shook his head and said softly: "Say rather an innocent, headstrong prince so fair of face and form and spirit that he not only caught my eye but stole my heart as well." He smiled as a blush stained the archer's cheeks. "Do not abase yourself. I have not forgotten how you selflessly succored me when I needed you and beyond the bounds of what friendship required of you. I have seldom known such nobility of heart and soul."

"That does not change the fact that I have wronged you once again. I would not blame you should you tire of me and my willful ways," Legolas whispered fearfully.

"Never, _meleth_. How can I? I am yours."

"Yet you are no longer so close to me," the prince said brokenly. "Even less now after all I have done to you. What I did and said... Forgive me, _melethron_," he whispered. "I am shamed by my cruelty and..." He shuddered. "And my disregard for you as my mate... and equal..."

Elrohir marked his woeful countenance, his continued self-debasement. He stroked the shining strands comfortingly.

"Methinks you panicked at your lack of control," he said softly. "By mastering me you sought to prove your mastery of your own body. But the pull would not let you alone and so you had to keep asserting your will and your dominance over and over again."

Legolas shuddered. "What of my shameful jests?" he asked in a small voice. "There is no excusing that."

"There is no excusing that, aye," Elrohir agreed. "But I wager 'twas another way of convincing yourself that you did not need me to make you feel whole."

Legolas could not help a low moan of revulsion at his actions. He made to turn away, conscious all over again of just how undeserving he was of his spouse. But Elrohir refused to release him and held him ever more snugly.

"You did not know," he repeated. "You thought it an unnatural impulse within you and therefore tried to rid yourself of it."

"But had I confided in you—" the archer said. "I should have asked you..."

"And I should have instructed you," Elrohir gently pointed out. "As I swore to do on our binding night." At Legolas' startled expression, he continued. "Even then you owned your lack of knowledge of what a binding entailed. You asked me to teach you and I promised I would. Yet this most significant matter I took for granted and did not trouble to relate to you." He pressed a kiss to his spouse's temple. "I was as remiss as you were willful. We both reaped what we sowed, Calenlass."

Legolas did not reply but only pressed his face against his mate's shoulder. Elrohir looked insistently at him. When Legolas sensed his gaze upon him, he cravenly lifted his tear-stung eyes for only Elbereth knew what he might see in the twilight pools.

He started when warm lips caught his and proceeded to suckle them tenderly. And when he gasped, Elrohir took advantage of this and, slipping between his parted lips, plundered his mouth with aching gentleness. Sensing a bridging of the chasm that separated them, Legolas eagerly responded, hungrily seeking emotional intimacy. Conscious only of his need to be as close as possible to his mate, the archer let go and immersed himself in the feeling of incompleteness that needed the other to feel whole. The fear of losing Elrohir overrode all other concerns.

For several sweet moments, they lost themselves in the bliss of their lips' deep embrace. Legolas quivered as passion began to mount slowly in the very depths of his being, so needful had he been of his mate's touch. He lowered a hand to tug at the belt of Elrohir's robe. He was startled when a strong but light grip on his wrist stopped him. The darkling Elf drew back, breaking their kiss. The prince stared at him. The twin's eyes mildly chided him.

Legolas flushed. He was doing it again. Asserting his will without taking Elrohir's side of the equation into consideration. After all, there had been no indication that his spouse wanted to proceed any further than their kisses. His bowed his head, disconcerted.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "What... what do _you_ want?"

A finger under his chin compelled him to raise his head and look at the Elf-knight. Elrohir's eyes gleamed with understanding and something else besides.

"_Heltho_," he softly told him. Strip.

Legolas stared in surprise then, turning rosy with sudden shyness, he reached for the ties on his bed-shirt and started to undo them. When he lowered his eyes, however, he felt Elrohir's thought brush his mind.

_Do not look away. I would see your eyes_.

Obeying, he looked up again at Elrohir; realized the warrior was also disrobing though his gaze stayed locked on the archer. They shed their garments thus, their connected gaze never wavering. It came to Legolas that, by holding his gaze, Elrohir was plumbing his very soul, reading in his eyes his true feelings and thoughts.

Legolas opened himself to the knowing stare; pushed aside all his previous resistance. He felt his heart beat wildly as Elrohir bore him down upon the bed and kissed him with such heart-stopping gentleness it rendered him breathless. Warm, thrilling caresses brushed his lips, his cheeks, his throat and shoulders, wandered down to his chest.

Elrohir ground their groins together, causing sharp bolts of pure sensation to steal up their spines. Then blessing Legolas' mouth with the deepest of kisses, he took the archer's hand and guided it between their lean forms. With a purposefulness that left the prince aflame, he folded Legolas' fingers around his shaft then did the same to the archer. Together, they fondled each other even as their lips clung in heated harmony, their breaths quickening, becoming shallower with every caress of their fingers.

Legolas could not suppress a moan when Elrohir reached down and proceeded to stroke them both in unison, all but undone by the stabbing pleasure that nearly pushed them both over the edge. They were soon trembling with an even greater need.

When Elrohir released his mouth to press kisses upon his neck and throat, Legolas could no longer hold back and he rasped pleadingly, "Please, Aduial, I need you. Have me... please..."

Elrohir paused then raised his head and regarded him thoughtfully. Legolas felt a pang of apprehension smite him. The twilight eyes were veiled once more. He wondered why yet feared to know the reason.

"Would you have a mere half-breed Elf take you?"

The quietly voiced query stung Legolas to the quick. Tears pricked his eyes once more. He swallowed painfully. It was apparent Elrohir still did not trust him completely. Anxiously searching the other's impassive countenance, he thought he espied the slightest glimmer of emotion. Of incertitude.

The truth came to him in a flash. When had he last yielded to the Elf-knight? He could hardly remember the moment himself. For so many months now, he had demanded and received his mate's compliance. And then he'd maligned Elrohir's Peredhil heritage and led him to believe that he had resented submitting to one who was only of the half-blood. Was it any wonder that the warrior now doubted his desire to be taken?

He thought his heart would break at this revelation. But he took his courage in hand and swallowed what pride he may have still harbored. He would not fail Elrohir again.

"Aye, I would," he whispered earnestly. "If he would deign to soil himself with one so base as I."

The impassive gaze turned warm with wonder and deep affection. Elrohir stroked his fingers across the damp cheeks, watched the blue eyes light up with pure, unabridged love.

"You are not base, _ernilen_"—my prince—he murmured, bestowing kisses upon the pale fluttering lids, easing away any remaining tears. "_Mîren_."—my treasure. He showered butterfly caresses on the finely etched cheekbones, tasting the salt of the archer's previous grief. "_Inden_."—my heart. He lowered his mouth to Legolas' and captured the trembling lips with searing need to taste the sweetness within.

Legolas was nearly undone by the power of such profoundly affectionate words. He snaked his legs around Elrohir's waist in a mute plea.

Without releasing the archer's lips, the twin eased into his lithe frame, slowly, deliberately, so that each felt every sensation until they were both breathing raggedly into each other's mouth. As the warrior buried himself to the hilt, something else connected as intimately as their bodies.

Legolas felt their spirits speaking once more, reaching out eagerly, hungry for the other. He shivered in sheer delight, moaned against Elrohir's lips as the twin began a motion as ancient as the Elves themselves, driving deep into him even as he delved the honeyed recesses of his mouth. Reaching for Elrohir's hands, he grasped them and intertwined their slender fingers.

Equal parts pleasure and joy coursed through the archer's body. The last barrier was gone. His Elf-knight was open to him once more, his trust fully restored. Their renewed closeness stoked their passion into a virtual conflagration of pure sensation.

Elrohir gently freed his hands, slipped his arms under the prince and, rising to a sitting position, their supple forms still joined, scooped him up, letting the archer straddle his thighs.

Legolas uttered a ragged gasp when he came to rest upon Elrohir's lap. Gathered against the Elf-knight's body, he found his lips devoured anew. He savored the intense intimacy of their position, mouths, torsos, groins and limbs pressed against or wrapped around the other.

At Elrohir's behest, they took it as slowly as they could. When Legolas would have pushed down hard onto him, the warrior held the archer's hips, keeping him from moving overmuch, controlling the intensity of their motions yet angling his upward thrusts to languidly stroke him within. Slowly, gently, they rocked their hips together, ardently whispering their love and desire to each other, savoring the crawling tendrils of sensation as they seeped into their veins, crept into their muscles, leaked into their nerves, gradually but inexorably building the ravaging pleasure of completion.

Tremors savaged their sinews, the thrill of impending release snaked through their limbs. And the feelings flowed through their tightly wrought connection, washing inexorably over both of them until, at last, they could take no more. With a groan, Elrohir grasped Legolas by the hips and pressed him down urgently. It proved the archer's undoing. The Elf-knight's name sobbingly wrenched from him, Legolas was swept away on a wave of wondrous sensation as his release overwhelmed him, taking Elrohir along with him into utter, incomparable bliss. They held each other tightly, waiting for their trembling to subside, reluctant to part after such voracious loving.

There had been a purity to this joining, a sweetness they had not experienced for quite some time.

After a while, the prince lay down beside his beloved Elf-knight. Strangely, despite their protracted coupling, neither Elf longed for sleep. If anything they were still wound up, their bodies not yet fully spent. Loath to separate from the twin even after the other had withdrawn from him, Legolas promptly entwined his long legs with the other's limbs and laid his head in the crook of his beloved's neck. Elrohir chuckled softly at this long unseen display of affection.

At the mirthful sound, Legolas raised his head. Regarding the smiling warrior, he asked, "What?"

"I missed this," Elrohir answered simply, placing a hand on the prince's thigh, which lay atop his.

Legolas looked so contrite that Elrohir took a moment to ease him with a gentle kiss. The prince beamed almost shyly then laid his head down once more.

"Elrohir?"

"Hmm?"

"You said we exchange one freedom for another kind. Forgive me my ignorance but could you please explain this?"

Legolas looked at Elrohir again as he spoke, crystalline eyes gleaming with curiosity. His determination to learn and set things right between them moved Elrohir immensely.

"'Tis true that Elves give up the freedom they once knew upon taking a spouse," he explained. "'Tis the reality for all races that honor the traditions of mating. But the _Edhil_ are accorded a special grace. Our bindings are eternal and therefore our passions must be without diminishment. Yet we would be hard-pressed to maintain such feelings for eternity. Even Elves may grow weary of the endless effort to love and succor a mate without the help our very nature provides us."

He smiled at his golden mate who was rapt with attention and fascination. "The pull we feel when we are bound was placed there by the One himself to help us sustain our eternal bonds. 'Tis a gift that allows us to turn our conscious thoughts and deeds elsewhere whilst keeping us secure in the knowledge that our love and desire remain constant. Call it instinct if you will but, if we let it, the pull guides us in our demeanor towards our mates, teaches us the ways of immortal lovers... all these without our having to put our full minds and efforts into pleasing each other. We can thus turn our energies to other things: to better our race, our culture and ourselves. In this sense, it is liberating. 'Tis a different kind of freedom but sweeter I think for having someone to share it with."

He studied the archer who looked thoughtful with belated comprehension. "You did not lose yourself to our union when we were bound," he quietly concluded, "but gained me instead... my whole self, heart, body and spirit."

The sapphire eyes were brilliant with enlightenment. Legolas gazed at him musingly. "Think yourself up to loving me through this night?"

One darkly elegant eyebrow shot up. "Is that a challenge?"

"Nay, an invitation."

Both eyebrows rose in amusement. "So lustful, _melethen_?"—my love?

The archer's adoring smile took his breath away. He thought he had never seen his prince so enchanting or beautiful. "I would be wholly yours, Elrohir," Legolas said reverently. "_I_ would belong to _you_, heart, body and spirit."

Elrohir gazed at him, eyes aglow with love and reawakening desire. He had felt the archer's surrender during their rabid coupling, known that Legolas had finally sealed his vows to him in full. But this heartfelt declaration warmed him immeasurably, recognizing as he did the humility it had taken for Legolas to openly voice it.

"Then I will love you through the night, Calenlass _nîn_"—my Greenleaf —the Elf-knight whispered. "I will make you mine."

And make him his he did, repeatedly, until the night grew old and their sated bodies, still melded together in love, Legolas' fair head tucked under his chin, finally gave in to the siren song of sleep. But not before he heard the archer's emotion-infused whisper against his neck, each endearment emphasized with a kiss.

"I love you, _rochiren_... _iaunen_... _faeren_." My knight, my refuge, my soul.

With a contented sigh, Elrohir slipped into deep repose, holding his heart's choice in the circle of his possessive embrace.

Glossary:  
naneth – mother  
adar – father  
Aduial – Twilight  
Edhil – Elves  
melethron nîn – my lover  
meleth – love

_To be continued_…


	116. Bereth 17 A New Day

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVI: A New Day  
The winter sun was streaming through the open balcony door and windows by the time Legolas awoke. The first thing his eyes beheld was Elrohir looking down at him with an expression of rapt tenderness. He swallowed hard, his whole body suddenly infused with warmth under so loving a regard by so beloved an Elf.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Elrohir had only one hushed word to say. "Beautiful."

Color stained the prince's cheeks. But a smile soon graced his lips and he lifted his head to take a hungry draught of the warrior's mouth. As the kiss deepened, he turned into Elrohir's arms, wanting to feel them around him. His backside chose the moment to protest and he winced unwittingly against the Elf-knight's lips.

Elrohir gently broke away and looked at him with concern. "You are sore," he murmured ruefully, reaching down to stroke his mate's admittedly abused rear end.

Legolas laughed softly. "Aye, and I love it." He laughed even more when Elrohir's eyebrows rose in surprise.

But it was true. He welcomed the discomfort. It assured him all over again of Elrohir's complete possession of him the night before. His spouse had not taken him so thoroughly and repeatedly in many years. With such edacious loving, he had found security and utter serenity.

"Have me again," he murmured, nuzzling Elrohir's throat.

Elrohir protested. "Calenlass, that will only make it worse—"

"Nay," Legolas interrupted. "It will make it better."

Elrohir stared at him with some wonder, understanding what he meant but amazed nevertheless that he should welcome the pain. But the sight of Legolas gazing at him with open yearning, fair cheeks flushed with need, silver gold locks spilling onto the pillow in lush abandon, lean form enticingly bared and wantonly inviting... His reluctance evaporated precipitately and he pressed his eager prince back onto the rumpled sheets.

The morning was old when they finally emerged from their apartment. Legolas' steady gait betrayed none of his discomfort at having been ridden oft and well through the night and little more than an hour ago as well. A good hot bath liberally laced with healing herbs and a soothing salve from Elrohir's bountiful store of medicaments had taken care of the worst of the soreness. And given him too many ideas for his own good, the warrior told him later.

Even so supposedly mundane a gesture as the application of the salve had left him wriggling with pleasure until he spent himself yet again. But with Elrohir performing that service for him, what had he expected? His Elf-knight's ministrations were as delicious as they were efficacious.

Arms around each other's waists, dark and fair heads bent close as they talked softly, they made their way to the dining hall. They paused a moment when they came to the open gallery that ran the length of the front of the royal pavilion.

A thin sheet of snow now covered the landscape and servants were busily clearing the tree-lined path to the delved halls. For the first time that winter, everything looked wonderfully natural.

They went on to the dining hall. Entering they were surprised to espy Elladan seated by himself at one of the long narrow tables tucking into hot porridge. At this late hour, they had thought themselves the last of the family to seek breakfast.

While Legolas sauntered off to inquire about what fare was available, Elrohir went to join his twin. He was taken aback as he neared Elladan to see the latter looking worn and obviously lacking in sleep. A far cry from his radiant self shortly after his sons' births and even his slightly unsettled but still joyful state when he moved his family into their apartment.

"Elladan, are you all right?" he asked with concern, sinking onto the bench beside his brother. He lifted a hand to the older twin's shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly.

Elladan stopped spooning porridge into his mouth and looked up rather wearily. "I am here so I must be all right," he muttered.

Elrohir stared at him in astonishment. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asked.

Elladan sighed. "I suppose so." He suddenly groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Ai, no one warned me that babes could be so demanding! One is bad enough but two—!"

Elrohir found himself torn between sympathy and amusement. The latter shamelessly won out before long. He snickered, earning a scowl from Elladan.

"A father for but a day and already you are overwrought!" he teased his twin. "How terrible was it, _gwaniaur_?"—older twin?

"You do not know the half of it!" Elladan exclaimed. "If they were not howling for milk, they were bawling because they were wet and oft at the same time. I am beginning to understand how _Adar_ and _Naneth_ must have felt when we were born. What I need to know is how they survived!"

Elrohir chuckled. "_Muindor_, you cannot let this best you," he said. "Remember, 'tis only the beginning."

"Do not remind me!" Elladan growled. After a moment, he looked over to where Legolas was speaking with one of his father's counsellors. "Judging from your bright spirits this morn, may I take it that you have resolved your problem with Legolas?"

"That you may," Elrohir replied with such patent satisfaction, Elladan had to smile.

"I am happy for you, _gwanneth_"—older twin—he said. "And I am relieved there is no longer a reason for me to take umbrage at his ill usage of you."

"As to that, I may very well be the one accused of ill usage if what passed between us last night continues unabated," Elrohir quipped. As Elladan nearly choked on a spoonful of oats, he slyly added: "I fear I will run out of salve before long. In which case, Legolas will have to forego riding for a while unless I can concoct more soonest."

Elladan stared at him in growing gladness. His twin's wicked humor had been missing for many months now. For it to return and so flagrantly lubricious at that was more than ample evidence of his restored happiness and contentment.

"If you do all the mounting and overdo it as well, he may not be able to sit on a horse again," he pointed out with a salacious grin.

Elrohir laughed then shook his head protestingly. "I am not so cruel as to deprive my mate of so pleasant an exercise," he countered, the innuendo not lost on his now chortling twin. "Besides, Legolas is too much a warrior to accept being on the receiving end of every charge!" As Elladan dissolved into laughter, he concluded: "It is only fair that I take my fill of his attentions every now and then."

Elladan shook his head, wiping tears of hilarity from his eyes. "Ai, you are definitely back in form, _tôren_!"—my brother—he gasped.

Just then a bowl of steaming oats was deposited before Elrohir. It was generously topped with chopped nuts and dried cherries, apple shards and currants and liberally sprinkled with cinnamon. Delighted, Elrohir glanced up to thank the servant who'd brought it and was startled to discover it was Legolas who had done so. He stared a little open-mouthed as the prince sat opposite him, setting his own bowl of porridge on the table as well.

Elrohir was, to put it mildly, stupefied. Legolas had never deigned to serve him before. Elladan, however, stared at the sumptuous repast before his brother and demanded, "Why were there no fruits and nuts in _my_ oats?"

Legolas glanced up and idly shrugged. "I asked for them," he explained. "'Tis Elrohir's favorite breakfast dish." He began to stir his own and failed to see the twins' astonished reactions.

Before either brother could speak, a servant placed a jug of warm cream on the table. Elrohir reached for it but Legolas had it in hand before him. The brethren watched in amazement as the archer poured a thick stream of cream onto Elrohir's oats before dousing his own.

The twins exchanged wondering glances. Gingerly, Elrohir mixed his meal and began to eat, glancing surreptitiously now and then at his golden-haired spouse.

The servant returned with a pitcher of fruit nectar and some drinking cups. Elrohir was just lifting the spoon to his mouth when he saw the prince lift the pitcher and fill a cup almost to the brim and then place the cup by the younger twin's bowl. The Elf-knight brought the spoon down with a distinct clatter. Elladan, chewing on an apple shard swiped from his brother's bowl, promptly choked on it and began to cough as a result.

The sounds caught the prince's attention and he looked up to find the twins watching him with fascination.

"What?" he asked warily.

Elrohir blinked. "Nothing, Legolas," he managed to say. "'Tis just that I am not used to you serving me."

"He is not the only one," Elladan commented.

Legolas looked from one brother to the other. "Oh," he said hesitantly. A blush colored his cheeks. "I am sorry. Was I annoying you?"

At the uncertainty in his prince's countenance, Elrohir promptly came out of his daze. He reached across the table and placed an assuring hand on the archer's. "Nay, _melethen_"—my love—he warmly said. "In truth, it pleases me to have so solicitous a lover care for my needs." His grey eyes caught the prince's blue ones and held them.

Legolas blushed even more deeply at the dark gleam in Elrohir's gaze. Elladan, seeing the signs and swiftly interpreting them, groaned and said, "I can tell how you two are going to spend the morning. A perfectly good waste of a fine winter morning, if you ask me."

"We did not," Elrohir grinned, still gazing at Legolas.

Elladan shook his head in resignation whilst the two continued with their meal, their eyes meeting meaningfully ever so often.

They were nearly done when Gimli came trudging into the hall. The Dwarf did not look like he had gotten much sleep either. He joined them and all but plopped himself on the bench beside Legolas.

The prince looked him up and down anxiously. "What is wrong, my friend," he queried. "Are you ill?"

Gimli glanced at him with bleary eyes. "Nay, I am quite well. I am just—" He yawned so widely his hand could not quite cover his gaping mouth. "—sleepy."

"We can see that," Legolas agreed, beckoning to a servant to bring the Dwarf some food.

"What kept you from sleep?" Elrohir inquired curiously.

Gimli cast a rather jaundiced eye at him and Elladan before glaring at Legolas. "May I respectfully ask for a change of accommodations?" he pointedly said to the prince. "'Tis an impossibility to get any rest when one's neighbors include newborn babes."

Legolas gasped then began to laugh. He was quickly joined by the twins. "Was it truly that bothersome?" the archer chuckled.

"Bothersome?!" Gimli harrumphed. "Never have I known such noise! All that whining and yelping and complaining! Aaagh! I demand you move me to another chamber at once, Legolas!"

While Legolas and Elrohir burst anew into chuckles, Elladan found the wherewithal to protest.

"Surely my sons were not _that_ loud!" he said.

Gimli snorted. "Who said I was talking about your sons? I was talking about you!" he retorted.

Elladan stared at the Dwarf in shocked dudgeon while his twin and law-brother looked on with ill-concealed mirth.

"I do not whine!" he exclaimed.

"Then you do a very good imitation of it!" Gimli snipped.

"You should talk, Master Dwarf, when your snores would wake up the dead!"

It was Gimli's turn to glower.

"At least I do not sniffle and snivel like a babe!" he blasted.

"Nay, you only bellow like a herd of mûmakil with a collective belly-ache!"

The bickering escalated, drawing the attention of just about every Elf in the hall. Legolas glanced at Elrohir; the two managed to bite back their laughter for a while but soon it simply proved too difficult to stay their mirth. Rather than offend either Elladan or Gimli further, they rose together and quickly exited the hall.

Then and only then did they whoop with laughter, their humor stoked even further by what they heard of the continued debate between one indignant Elf-father and his disgruntled Dwarf-neighbor.

Glossary:  
Calenlass – Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
muindor – brother  
adar – father  
naneth – mother

_To be continued_…


	117. Bereth 18 Heart and Soul

_**Bereth: To Have and To Hold**_  
_by Eressë_

Epilogue: Heart and Soul  
The two princes sauntered down the wide corridor leading to the shaded path that would bring them to the delved halls. They were greeted by various courtiers and retainers along the way. Legolas could not help noticing that most surreptitiously studied them and, upon seeing his proprietary hand on Elrohir's back, would nod approvingly.

Yes, change had indeed worked its spell on the woodland realm, he mused. Just a few centuries ago, his binding to Elrohir would have been received with shock and censure. Now they were looked upon with fond indulgence in the manner of elders regarding young lovers. But there was more to the half-concealed smiles than their natural affection for their youngest prince and his beloved mate.

They were actively relieved to see him behaving as a bound _Edhel_ should. More than ever, it brought home to Legolas just how negligent he had been toward his Elf-knight and what Elrohir had endured while struggling to keep his faith in him.

He glanced at the twin; saw the incandescent glow that had been so dimmed but a few weeks back. Legolas knew what had brought that glimmering light back into Elrohir's being. Remembered anew how the warrior had loved him the night before, blessing him with the sheer magic of their repeated joinings. It had left him breathless with wonder and hungry for even more intimacy not only of the body but also of the heart and spirit.

Legolas knew one night of loving could not possibly make up for all he had done to Elrohir. As such, in the rosy aftermath of his latest undoing this very morn, he had vowed to himself to spend the rest of his days making amends. He would love his Elf-knight with all his being, succor him in times of need, woo him should they have differences. He would share his whole self with him that they might always be one even when they were apart.

The pull surged up within him unbidden, tenderly urging him into action. This time he did not struggle against it. This time he embraced it eagerly. He was no longer ignorant of its purpose, no longer afraid to follow its lead. His gaze settled intently on Elrohir.

The warrior had paused to speak to the nurse of Elladan's twin sons, inquiring as to the state of the infants. After being assured of the Elflings' well-being and learning they were fast asleep at the moment, he turned to Legolas, thinking to suggest that they visit their nephews later when they were awake. He was startled when the prince gently but firmly pushed him against the wall.

There and then, in full sight of every Elf who passed down the hallway, he claimed the warrior's lips, oblivious of the dropped jaws and popeyed stares of virtually every person in the vicinity. Nor did he hurry with his tender plundering of Elrohir's mouth, deepening it until they were both breathing heavily.

When he finally drew away, Elrohir gazed at him with soft-eyed amazement. "What was that for?" the twin asked, a warm smile indicating his delight at such open affection from his golden prince.

Legolas smiled back. "For love of you, Aduial," he murmured. "My glorious _bereth_, my incomparable Elf-knight."

The grey eyes widened at the fulsome praise. But the smile on the sinuous lips broadened further, the beauty of it enticing the archer into snaring the warrior in yet another searing kiss.

"I think we have caused quite a stir," Elrohir grinned when they finally broke apart.

Legolas looked about him with the expression of someone becoming aware of his surroundings for the first time. His eyes widened in consternation. The hallway was now crowded with Elves, all staring at them with a riotous mix of shock, amazement, curiosity, delight and, for some, slight disapproval at so wanton a display of passion. Well, there was no pleasing everybody after all.

The prince blushed deeply, his natural reserve in such matters, momentarily quelled by the pull, now coming to the fore. Elbereth! What would his father say when word got back to him? He groaned, already anticipating the masterful lecture on proper decorum his sire was sure to deliver this day.

"Ashamed, Calenlass?" Elrohir quietly asked.

Legolas looked at him and saw the beginning of a frown creasing the twin's smooth temple. He hastened to allay the other's concern.

"Nay, how could I be ashamed of this passion we share?" he said, gripping Elrohir's hands tightly. "I am ever so blessed that 'twas I you learned to desire all those years ago else I would not know the bliss of your love now." At the easing of the incipient frown from his mate's brow, he added, "But I think we had best continue this in private. 'Tis not wise to call _Adar's_ attention to us. I have no wish to be scolded like a mere Elfling at my age!"

The frown vanished completely to be replaced by a grin. Lyrical laughter filled the corridor, the sweetest music Legolas thought he'd ever had the pleasure to hear. Still chuckling, Elrohir shook his head in mirth. He knew his law-father's mind all too well.

"And shall we then confirm Elladan's insinuations and waste this fine winter morning as he put it?" he inquired cheekily.

"Most assuredly," Legolas grinned back. "Nothing would please me more, Elrohir _nîn_. Besides, _you_ are a splendid waste of time!"

He took no more thought to the curious Elves about them, cared no longer what the King might have to say about their behavior. Steering the Elf-knight away from the shaded path, he purposely led him back to their rooms instead. He belonged to Elrohir and Elrohir was his and that was all that mattered this wonderful morn on the edge of winter and the first stirring of spring.

Glossary:  
Edhel – Elf  
Aduial – Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
bereth – spouse  
Calenlass – Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
Elrohir nîn – my Elf-knight

The End

**Part 24:** Golden Obsession – During a holiday in Dol Amroth, Legolas proves the strength of his fidelity to his binding vows both to Elrohir and himself.


	118. Golden Obsession Part 1

**Summary:** During a holiday in Dol Amroth, Legolas proves the strength of his fidelity to his binding vows both to Elrohir and himself.

**Rating:** M for sexual content

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Golden Obsession**_  
by Eressë

Dol Amroth, Belfalas, _laer_ F.A. 34  
The castle of Dol Amroth in Belfalas, seat of the Princes of this seaward vale, was of ancient age and as distinguished a history as the family that occupied it. Neither possessing the guarded grandeur of Minas Tirith's White Tower and its surrounding pavilions nor the more elemental but dignified air of Meduseld in Edoras, it had a charm and beauty all its own. More elven than most mortal structures yet it was less intimidating than the least elvish of buildings. It matched its owners, mortal Men in whose veins flowed blood enriched by an _Edhil_ ancestress.

Legolas stepped out of his chamber onto the adjacent balcony and looked upon a vista of endless beaches, rugged shorelines and the vast, compelling sea. He breathed in the salty air, relished the brisk ocean breeze, so cool and refreshing even at the height of summer. And always deep in his heart stirred the ancient call of that vast watery meadow, awakened by the cries of gulls during the wartime journey up Anduin from Pelargir to the battle that raged on the fields of the Pelennor.

It was the reason for his presence in Belfalas, the reason for Elphir's letter to him inviting him to spend a fortnight at Dol Amroth's fabled castle. The heir of Prince Imrahil had known of his sea-longing having heard him voice it in the weeks following Aragorn's crowning in Minas Tirith. He had offered Legolas a chance to taste something of the sea while he was still bound to Middle-earth for reasons of honor, oaths and duty. Enchanted by the prospect, touched by such thoughtfulness, Legolas had accepted.

And so here he was delighting in the scents and sights of a place so near the ocean that the crash of the waves lulled one to sleep at night and the cries of sea birds awoke one in the morning. He smiled as a strong but gentle hand gripped his shoulder.

"Were it not for your oath to Estel, you would be on your way to Valinor by now," Elrohir remarked, noting his mate's glistening eyes. "The sea-longing grows ever stronger in you each day we linger here."

Legolas inhaled deeply once more, this time taking in the scent not of the ocean but of the Elf who stood by his side. The singular scent born of the wonder that was Imladris was far more potent than the formidable aroma of the sea. He smiled at the twin affectionately.

"Aye, it grows stronger," he admitted. "But it will not conquer me. Not while I have oaths to uphold and your love to sustain me."

Elrohir smiled slightly and squeezed the archer's shoulder. Legolas sighed and looked out at the lovely seascape once more. It still beckoned temptingly but its allure had subsided to a tolerable level as soon as the Elf-knight came to his side.

"'Twas kind of Elphir to invite us here," he commented idly.

To his surprise, Elrohir snorted sceptically. "I doubt 'twas kindness that prompted him. The invitation was meant for one Elf, not two."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Legolas asked curiously.

"He wants you," Elrohir replied briefly.

The prince blinked. "Who wants me?" he asked bemusedly.

"Our kind host."

Legolas stared at the warrior dumbfounded. "Elphir?" he asked somewhat stupidly, so great was his shock.

"I believe that is his name," Elrohir answered.

"That is absurd," Legolas protested. "Why would Elphir want me?"

"For the same reason you and I want each other."

"But we are Elves! He is a Man. How could he want another male? 'Tis considered an aberration amongst mortals."

Elrohir turned to him and sagely said, "As you very well know, elven blood flows in the veins of Dol Amroth's ruling family. In those where it runs true, it is as potent as Estel's and, in some matters, more compelling even than his. Prince Imrahil and those of his kin so blessed possess many elven traits. They are long-lived and slow to age even by the standards of the Dúnedain of the North. They are also keen-sighted, strong and swift and certainly passing fair. And they experience our duality as well though it seems to affect the men-folk far more than the women."

"How do you know that?" Legolas queried. Getting a meaningful smirk, he exclaimed, "Elrohir, you didn't—!" The smirk deepened. "Who?" Legolas demanded, uncertain whether to be amused or jealous.

"Suffice to say that Imrahil had not yet been born or his father or grandfather before him," Elrohir said. When Legolas turned less than pleased eyes on him, he grinned and went on. "'Twas during a sojourn to the far south that father took our family on ere my mother's abduction." Seeing the dangerous glint in the sapphire pools, he relented with a gentle smile and said: "Nay, 'twas not I but Elladan who indulged himself. You know full well that I did not bed another male after I had you, _melethron_."—lover.

The glint dissipated at the reassurance. Legolas shook his head. "Be that as it may, what gave you the notion that Elphir harbors such a regard for me?"

"He desired you as soon he set eyes on you during the War," Elrohir answered evenly. "I saw how he looked at you throughout our stay in Minas Tirith. How he still regards you whenever you have met since. 'Tis not mere respect or admiration that gleams in his eyes."

"If that were so, why did he not approach me back then?" Legolas countered, still unbelieving. "For that matter, why has he not done so all these years?"

"His lady wife still lived until just two years ago."

That brought Legolas up short. And he and Elrohir had just returned from an extended stay in the north. A stay of two years. Noting the change in his prince's eyes, Elrohir further elucidated. "Now that she is gone, he is no doubt unbearably lonely and looking for solace of some kind. And here you are, his golden desire, so very close at hand. Does it not strike you that the invitation arrived almost as soon as we returned? I imagine he has been biding his time, awaiting your arrival."

Legolas shivered. "Nay, 'tis impossible, Elrohir," he insisted, uncomfortable with the knowledge of Elphir's desire and the idea that he was the object of it. "You must be mistaken."

"Who sent you the letter?" Elrohir pointed out. "'Twas a personal missive from Elphir himself. Addressed to you and you alone and signed by him personally then delivered on strict orders that none but you were to receive it. Why think you did he nearly scowl when he saw me at your side upon our arrival? All Gondor knows of our friendship. He likely resents the presence of an interfering comrade who may advise prudence and restraint in your dealings with him." When Legolas failed to come up with a rejoinder, he added, "And did you not wonder why we were assigned bedchambers so far apart from each other? I can easily imagine why he would not want us within earshot of each other."

Legolas let out a deep exhalation. "You should have told him we are bound as soon as you realized his intentions," he chided.

"What? And embarrass our host by playing the jealous lover ere he has even made a move?" Elrohir chuckled. "Nay, Calenlass, 'tis you who must inform him thus when he approaches you."

"_If_ he approaches me."

"He will. I can even tell you when."

"Then do tell me, O Foresighted One," Legolas said somewhat sarcastically.

"Tomorrow towards midday," Elrohir replied confidently. "Imrahil asked me if I should like to see his new ship in Edhellond and even offered to accompany me himself. He also insisted that we take our midday meal there. He did not quite order me to accept but he made it quite clear he would be displeased if I did not."

"And you accepted?" Legolas asked in dismay.

"Would you have it get back to Estel that I behaved so ungraciously towards Imrahil?" Elrohir pointed out. He shook his head. "He knows his son intends to have you to himself and so takes me on a fool's errand."

The archer was aghast. "Are you suggesting that Imrahil would abet his son in this?" he said.

Elrohir shrugged. "Elphir is his heir. I suppose no father can deny his child something he desires so greatly."

Legolas looked at Elrohir closely. The twin's nonchalance troubled him. "Are you not worried about leaving me with Elphir?" he asked a little anxiously.

"Should I be?" Elrohir countered, one sable eyebrow rising in question.

"Nay, but I wish—" Legolas hesitated, his cheeks coloring a little. "It would be sweet to know you possessive of my regard."

Silver eyes glittered ominously in response to his words. "I _am_ possessive of your regard _and_ you," Elrohir smiled humorlessly. "But I trust you to keep Elphir at a decent distance. Believe me, _meleth_, were I to see him taking liberties with you, both of you would know just how possessive I can get, be he the Crown Prince of Dol Amroth or King of all Arda!"

Legolas laugh softly at the passionate declaration. "I am touched that you trust me so, Aduial," he said. "After what I put you through our first ten years of espousal, I feared the worst. I gave you ample reason to distrust me and even now I still worry that mayhap the full measure of your love is no longer mine. The thought grieves me for I live by your love, my Elf-knight."

He felt Elrohir move behind him, his body so very close yet not touching. And then the warrior's next words shocked him into near speechlessness.

"Even did you bed every wench in Gondor or pillaged the barracks of every elven realm left in Middle-earth I would still love you, Legolas," Elrohir said quietly.

A pained gasp escaped Legolas' lips. Suddenly he understood how Elrohir must have felt every time he had jested about the possibility of faithlessness within their binding. He wondered if his mate was now paying him back in kind and in full.

"You – you said Elves never speak of such things, not even in jest," he choked, his voice shaking. "Yet now you imply that I could – I could—"

Elrohir pulled him into his arms. He nuzzled the sensitive skin behind the archer's ear, eliciting another gasp from the latter.

"I neither jest nor imply, Calenlass," Elrohir whispered against the pale flesh, his warm breath causing prickles of pleasurable sensation to scatter about the prince's neck. "But you needed reassurance of my love for you and I wanted you to know the extent of it. You have mine in full measure, my golden prince, for I, too, live by your love"

A veritable flood of emotions swept through the archer – relief, awe and profound devotion mingled within him until he felt the sting of impending tears in his eyes. Heated kisses seared the flesh of his nape and the side of his neck and knowing hands slid down his torso to rest on his lean hips. Biting back a moan, Legolas turned in Elrohir's arms and pressed his mouth avidly against the Elf-rider's.

"Love me, Aduial," he whispered against the twin's lips. "My bed has been cold without you by my side."

Elrohir drew away slightly, his eyes gleaming darkly. "Then come and let me ensure that it will be cold no more," he murmured.

They retreated into the archer's bedchamber, barely making it to the bed before they fell upon each other in almost indecent haste. Their lateness at the dinner table was duly noted by the Prince's family but Imrahil thought it imprudent to question his guests. Elves' habits were, after all, quite different from Men and not even he knew all the nuances of their existence. He had no wish to offend either of them even unwittingly.

oOoOoOo

Elrohir's suppositions seemed alarmingly sound the following day. Hardly had the twin ridden away with Imrahil when the Crown Prince invited Legolas for a walk along the shore and a picnic lunch at the end of it.

Warning bells set off in the Elf-prince's mind when he realized the beach Elphir had chosen was not the well-walked, much-peopled one to the west of the castle but the barren, hardly visited stretch to the east. It was deserted for the most part and lined with deep caves, dark crannies and secluded tracts oft ringed with large rocks. What few trees existed stood in craggy if lonely splendor. It was beautiful in its pristine wildness, compelling in its elegant silence. But it was also far too isolated for the archer's peace of mind.

His discomfort increased when Elphir led him to a large patch of fine sandy beach almost enclosed within the embrace of boulders and blessed by the presence of one ancient tree. It looked out to the pounding surf and was shaded and cozy and all too – romantic. Legolas felt his apprehension rise when the Prince spread a large blanket he had brought upon the sand. A rather thick one, the archer noticed uneasily.

But then Elphir began to unpack the basket he'd ordered for their midday repast and did no more than invite him to sit and join him for the meal. And so they ate and drank and exchanged stories and nothing untoward happened. Legolas felt his spirits lighten. It seemed Elrohir was wrong after all, he thought, as Elphir laughed heartily at his retelling of Elladan's travails over his infant twin sons. The Crown Prince, in turn, waxed proudly about his children and shared an amusing tale about his latest nephew by his sister, Lothíriel, and her husband, Éomer, King of Rohan.

When Elphir spoke of his late wife and recounted the joy he had had with her, he felt the last of his doubts melt away. He is only lonely and longs for company, Legolas thought warmly. How can I deny him mine?

He sought to steer the Man away from sad thoughts and sallied into a series of hilarious tales revolving around his Dwarf friend, Gimli, and the always irrepressible Hobbits, Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took. He soon had Elphir in stitches as he told him about the trio's encounter with the less than happy owner of the Inn of the Green Dragon at Bywater. They had accidentally caused a fair number of beer barrels to crash to the cellar floor (they had not cared to explain what they were doing in the cellar in the first place) and roll away in the direction of said inn keeper whose terror at being nearly flattened by the runaway barrels was only matched by his understandable fury at his suddenly undesirable guests.

It was then while his guard was down, when he thought Elphir had no ulterior interest in him, that he found out that he did. The prince suddenly stopped laughing and, without any warning, leaned forward and brushed his mouth against the Elf's. Legolas was so stunned he did not react for an instant, did not even move. But when Elphir would have taken another draught of his lips, his wits returned and he quickly averted his face. Dismayed, he attempted to back away from the Man only to discover to his disconcertment that he could move no further than a few inches for Elphir had taken hold of his right hand.

The prince looked both apologetic and amused. "I am sorry I startled you, golden one," he gently said. "But I could no longer desist. I have waited many years for this moment, Legolas."

Legolas groaned inwardly. He should have known. When it came to matters of love and lust, Elladan and Elrohir were nonpareils. As usual, the younger twin had been proven right again. He wondered how to extricate himself from the situation without causing too much fuss.

"My lord," he said diplomatically, "I think it would be best if we returned."

Elphir chuckled softly, a sound that did nothing to soothe the archer's jumpy nerves. "Ah, you are troubled by my forwardness," the Man smiled. "Forgive me, 'twas not my intention to distress you. But you cannot have failed to guess how I regard you. And surely you return some of that regard, else you would not have joined me here."

Legolas stared steadily at the Man. By the time he met Imrahil and his heir during the War of the Ring, he had learned to accept and recognize the duality of elven nature. He had appreciated the beauty and nobility of both men and known that appreciation for what it was – pure physical attraction – and not the hero-worship or elvish admiration for beauty that he'd been raised to believe were the reasons for such feelings.

But the attraction had not blossomed into active desire for either father or son. His taste for intimacy with his own kind simply had not developed. He'd continued to indulge his need for release and companionship in the arms of female-kind, never feeling the yearning for male-flesh. Except when it came to Elrohir.

That was not to be wondered at any longer. Destiny had fated him for one love and that love his closest friend and an _ellon_, a male Elf at that. He could no more ignore the attraction between them than he could stop breathing. He had attempted to fight it much to his and Elrohir's detriment and grief. But once he'd accepted and embraced their love in full, theirs had become the most blissful of elven unions.

Legolas confronted the problem before him. He felt Elphir's magnetism most keenly. It was akin to Aragorn's yet different and totally his own. And though many years had passed since their first meeting, Elphir was still as handsome and youthful in appearance as he had been then. Like his sire, he looked more elven than human with his lean build, fair skin and lack of facial hair. Had he not loved Elrohir first, Legolas acknowledged, who knew where his admiration for this man's beauty and charisma might lead? But it was moot and academic to even think about it. He was bound and even now Elrohir's comely visage invaded his mind with a sweetness that was more beckoning than the relentless call of the sea.

The silence was becoming dangerous. Elphir might misconstrue his lack of response as a sign of compliance

"I joined you for I thought to be a friend to you in your loneliness, my lord," he finally said. He looked about him, openly appreciative. "Indeed, I do not regret coming here with you for few are such places that seem to be made for the purposes of lovers in need of seclusion. I should not have known of it were it not for your guidance."

Elphir, who had began to grin at the Elf's first words, now frowned at the last. There was a nuance to his mention of lovers. A nuance that suggested quite clearly that he had someone in mind who was not the man beside him. The prince's agile mind quickly homed in on the one plausible suspect. He regarded the archer through narrowed eyes.

"I believe Lord Elrohir has been a close friend of yours for many years?" he ventured.

Legolas smiled, knowing what Elphir sought to discover. "Far longer than you have been in this world," he said.

Elphir pursed his lips. "He did not look very happy when he parted from you this morning," he commented.

"Neither he nor I are happy when we must part from each other for even the space of a day," the Elf quietly replied. "Separations spanning months are pure agony for both of us."

Elphir stared at him then dropped his eyes to the hand he held, his gaze zeroing in on the gold band upon the index finger of that hand. For the first time, he realized that what he'd taken to be a signet ring did not in the least look like something that hailed from a woodland realm.

"You are bound to Elessar's foster brother," he murmured, chagrined.

"Aye, for twelve years now," Legolas confirmed, relieved to have it out in the open.

"You conceal your relationship well," Elphir remarked.

Legolas noted with concern that he did not release his hand.

"'Tis upon my insistence, not Elrohir's," he admitted. "He would shout it from the rooftops of Minas Tirith were I to let him."

"Why do you stop him?"

"For political reasons. Too much importance is attached to my closeness to Aragorn as it is. Were my detractors to discover that I am as good as wed to his beloved brother, they would only grow even more suspicious and envious of my supposed influence over the King."

"Not to mention that love between two beings of the same gender is not comprehensible and indeed unacceptable to most Men," Elphir added wryly.

"You understand our situation then," Legolas said.

"All too well, I fear," the prince admitted. "My family also observes discretion in such matters, even amongst our own people." He gazed at the Elf keenly. "Does Elrohir know of my intentions?" he asked curiously.

"Aye, he warned me last night that you would approach me this day while he was gone," Legolas said. "I confess I did not really believe him."

"He knows yet he left you with me," Elphir mused. "So much trust."

"He loves me," Legolas simply answered.

Elphir stared at him intently. "I do not seek to gain your heart," he said at length. "Even less now that I know you have already given it. As I gave mine to my wife."

"I know," Legolas quietly responded, acutely aware that Elphir's hand had traveled from his hand to his wrist and now gripped that firmly. "But you are lonely and hoped to find comfort in the joining of our bodies."

The Man had the grace to blush at such vivid bluntness. "And is that so wrong a wish?" he queried.

"Nay, 'tis natural and understandable," the Elf answered.

"Then why do you hesitate?" Elphir asked, a hint of regal demand in his tone. "I will not deny that I have desired you these many years, Legolas. Even with my wife at my side, I wanted you. You are as different from her as the sun is from the moon." Legolas felt his unease flare up once more at the frank admission of need. "She knew of my desire and urged me to approach you." At the Elf's startled reaction, he smiled sadly. "When she sickened and became too weak to take care of my needs, she gave me leave to seek your company."

"That was generous of her," Legolas managed to say, amazed at such selfless encouragement of what amounted to adultery, pure and simple. He could not quite quell his curiosity and asked, "Why didn't you?"

Elphir regarded him thoughtfully and made him wish he had not pursued the matter. Now the Man would have reason to think him disappointed by his inaction.

Elphir finally answered. "I could not violate my marriage vows," he said. "Not while she lived and breathed. But now I am a free man once more. And I want you more than ever. You grow comelier with the years, Legolas."

Legolas winced inwardly. He strove to find a balance between rejecting the Man and soothing his sure-to-be hurt pride. "My lord, 'tis an honor that one so attractive and noble as you should see me thus," he said hesitantly.

"So you do find me attractive, "Elphir interrupted, obviously pleased. "I still remember the gleam of appreciation in your eyes the first time we met, golden prince."

Legolas stifled an urge to groan in frustration. "Aye, I did appreciate your beauty then," he said. "As I still do now. But my full acceptance of such matters was still fairly recent and 'twas Elrohir who educated me so to speak."

Elphir nodded comprehendingly. "I had heard your people had rejected the ancient ways of your kindred."

"They did but they could not do so forever," Legolas said. "Not even _Edhil_ can eliminate what is an intrinsic part of elven nature."

"And this attraction to me? Just how deep did it run?"

_End of Part 1. Continue to Part 2…_


	119. Golden Obsession Part 2

_**Golden Obsession**_  
_by Eressë_

(Part 2)  
Legolas sighed at the enforced return to the earlier subject. Elphir was not going to let him go so easily. He was the heir of a great realm after all and accustomed to getting what he wanted. He pondered his options. He sensed that outright denial would not convince the prince. He would have to be more expansive if circuitous in his explanations.

"Elphir, I have lain with no other man, Elf or mortal, save Elrohir," he said quietly.

The abrupt admission surprised the Man. He stared at the Elven prince. "No other?" he echoed incredulously.

"I told you, my acceptance of my race's duality was but lately come. That it did happen was because Elrohir was such a close friend and also because I loved him though I was too blind to recognize it as such at the time. Save for his I cared not for the attentions of other males."

"But are you not curious about other men now?" Elphir asked with a smile.

"I am bound to him. I have no wish to break my vows to him."

"How could one instance impact so greatly on your relationship?" Elphir snorted, showing impatience for the first time. "What is one coupling in the eternity of your kind?"

"I do not think you would be satisfied with one coupling," Legolas remarked. "The longing in your eyes betrays your need."

"Aye, it would not be enough," Elphir conceded, "but it will have to suffice."

His hand had moved to Legolas' lower arm and he now exerted the gentlest of pressure to pull the Elf toward him. Nonetheless, the power behind the gentleness warned the Elf that he had to take a stand now before things went any further and a quarrel became inevitable.

He shook his head. "Please, I cannot do this. Elrohir—"

Elphir cut him off. "Would he know if something passed between us?" he asked.

"Aye, he would."

"And would he forsake you because of it?'

Legolas recalled his Elf-knight's profession of eternal love no matter the circumstances. "Nay, he would love me just the same," he softly replied.

"Then you need not fear losing him," Elphir said almost triumphantly. He pulled the Elven prince a fraction closer.

Legolas decided enough was enough. He pulled his arm back, showing his resistance. "'Tis not for fear of his response that I hold back, my lord," he tightly said. "'Tis simply that I yearn for no other's embrace."

Elphir smiled indulgently. He obviously thought the archer's pronouncement to have been made out of the innocence of having had only one male lover.

"Do not underestimate your capacity to enjoy pure physical pleasure, Legolas," he said huskily. "Your body may surprise you by responding to my attentions. And I am not boasting when I say I am not unskilled."

"I have no doubts about your prowess, Elphir," Legolas replied earnestly. "But even could I bring myself to comfort you in your need, I do not think you would find joy in it. You would know that 'tis Elrohir's image I would envision, his name I would cry out should you manage to bring me to release. And it would be his tears I would taste and bitterly regret for betraying his trust. I would carry the guilt and the grief forever and he the pain and loss of faith in me. It would be a blight upon our lives for all eternity."

Still Elphir did not relent. Legolas was dismayed at the prince's determination to press his suit.

"I am not asking for a share of the love you give him," the Man said, now patently impatient and ready to act upon it. "I only seek an afternoon's worth of comfort as you put it."

"But I am bound to him," Legolas repeated, now desperate and alarmed. He did not want to come to blows with Eldarion's law-father. "We took vows to be faithful to each other as you did with your wife."

Elphir let out a scornful exhalation. "You are both male," he snapped. "How can such oaths be as true as those between husband and wife?'

"They are no less true," Legolas retorted, his anger flaring. "Indeed, they are more binding than any marriage vows between mortals for even death cannot break an espousal between two Elves." Before Elphir could speak, he swiftly swept on. "You did not approach me while your wife still lived because you had sworn to be faithful to her. Why do you expect me to turn oath-breaker for you?"

His voice lowered, became quieter and calmer yet more forceful. "I love Elrohir with all my being. He is my binding-mate. My _bereth uin faer_. We bound ourselves to each other before our kin and people, asked Manwë and Elbereth to bless our union, invoked the name of the One, the All-Father, when we uttered our vows. I belong to Elrohir alone. I cannot share myself, have no desire to, with any other, man or woman, Elf or mortal, now or ever." His blue eyes blazed with deep-felt emotion. "Do not demand such a transgression of me, Elphir. I will not, will never grant it."

His fervent declaration finally penetrated the mists of Elphir's lust-fogged mind. Like cold water wrung upon a fevered brow, the Elf's passionate avowal doused the flames of the prince's heated yearnings. A lowborn, thickheaded man might have taken the archer's words as the desperate stalling of one on the verge of yielding and struggling to keep from making the last fatal step. But Elphir was neither common nor obtuse. He saw the love and conviction shining in the Elf's sapphire eyes. Knew that if he committed so base a deed as to try to take the archer by force, Legolas would fight him in earnest, to the death if need be.

Elven fidelity was of the heart and soul and body. Their espousals were not lightly taken and virtually impossible to break. He had known this, the lore passed down through generations of his family in great detail from the lady who had been their Elven foremother. But in his long-formed, desire-driven obsession with the golden-haired Elf, he had attempted to circumvent what he knew to be sacred and true.

I have wronged both of them, he realized with belated shame and remorse. He looked at Legolas closely. The archer stared back at him with wary eyes, his limbs tensed in readiness for battle or flight. Were a few moments of dubious pleasure and forced satiation worth a lifetime of hatred and grief? Elphir shuddered at the very thought. His innate nobility and purity of heart came to the fore as his lust receded. With a sigh, he released Legolas' arm at last. The Elven prince watched with relief as lucidity returned to the dark eyes of the Man.

"You are right," Elphir murmured wearily. "This would prove no comfort to me at all but would be a curse that would destroy what trust and friendship there is between us. Forgive me, Legolas. It was grievously wrong of me to try to force such a faithless act from you."

He looked away, his eyes dimming once more. Legolas felt pity and sympathy well up within him. He could understand why Elphir had acted with such uncharacteristic aggressiveness. Loneliness could drive people to do things they would never consider doing otherwise. Even Elves fell prey to its clutches but, for those who were mated, the consequences of giving in to the need to assuage it were so dire and painful few ever acted upon that need.

"You will find solace, Elphir, but not with me," Legolas gently said. "You are loved by your children and people and in them you will know far greater comfort than the fleeting joy of a coupling. And you may yet find another love to warm your heart. You are still in the prime of your life, a noble lord and a comely one. I cannot imagine you remaining alone for long." Hoping to assuage the Man's bruised pride, he offered, "I will concede that had I not been bound, I may very well have yielded to you this day."

Elphir glanced at him then smiled in understanding. "Nay, you would not even then. I see it in your eyes, now that I am no longer blinded by my desire. You were fated to know the arms of but one man and he is your Elrohir. But I thank you for your compassion and kindness. And it eases my sore heart to know you find me comely enough."

"You are, my lord," the archer said honestly. "Any Elf would gladly accept your embrace."

"Save for the Elf I want." The smile saddened somewhat. "Elrohir is very fortunate to have won you."

Legolas slowly shook his head. "Nay, 'tis I who am blessed to have captured his heart," he averred. "He is by far the greater prize."

Elphir nodded. "I must apologize to him when he returns," he remarked. "I do not think it advisable to have an angry Elvenlord after my head."

Legolas chuckled softly, remembering Elrohir's only half jestingly uttered threat of what he might do should Elphir press his attentions overmuch on his mate.

They rose to their feet, Elphir with almost as much fluid grace as Legolas. "I would have you stay for as long as you wish, you and Elrohir," the Man said. "I have seen how much you love the sights and sounds of my father's realm. And I will have him transferred to your room that you may be together as is the right of all spouses."

"You need not do that," Legolas assured him. "As you said earlier, 'tis better not to call attention to matters your people may not understand. Besides, we are used to such arrangements whenever we are in Minas Tirith."

"Utmost discretion, eh?"

"Bothersome but necessary."

"Very well. But I think a change of quarters for him would be desirable nevertheless. Perhaps the one next to yours?"

"That would be most welcome," Legolas smiled, now grateful and accepting.

Elphir smiled back, the sadness in his countenance gone if only because of the cheer he glimpsed in the Elf's eyes. "Shall we go back?" he invited.

Legolas hesitated then looked at the sea. The roar of the water was as thunderous music to his ears – beckoning, seducing, waiting.

"I think I should like to stay here a while longer," he said. "Leave the blanket and basket, my lord," he said when Elphir would have stooped to gather them. "I will take care of bringing them back."

Elphir nodded again and, with a brief smile, strode away briskly. Legolas watched him go a little regretfully. It was no easy thing to have to turn away such a noble lord. Men like Imrahil's son and heir were few and far in between. He remained thus, eyeing the receding figure until finally Elphir disappeared even from his keen sight. He turned away to face the ocean, sighing as he did.

"Regretting your decision, Calenlass?"

Legolas whirled and glanced up to whence the voice had come. Elrohir stood upon a rock some five paces away, long legs splayed, arms hanging easily at his sides. His unbound raven hair flowed freely in the wind and his dark cloak billowed gracefully about his lean form. He looked fell and dangerous and devastatingly beautiful. Legolas felt his throat tighten at this glorious sight of his binding-mate; remembered all over again just why he did not desire any other.

"How did you pass us without our knowledge?" he asked, trying to clear the sudden fuzziness that enveloped his senses.

"Wood-elves are not the only ones who can move with stealth," the Elf-knight replied.

"And how long have you been waiting there?"

"Long enough." The twilight eyes sparkled vibrantly. "Enough to know my trust well-founded." He leaped down lightly and approached Legolas purposefully. "Enough to hear your love for me so fervently declared."

He caught Legolas to himself and proceeded to kiss him deeply and with such ardor that the prince fairly swooned with delight. He did not protest when the twin lowered him to the blanket, following him down swiftly to hold him close.

"So providential of you to keep the blanket," he smiled, lazily undoing the archer's jerkin.

"So fortuitous of you to be back so early," Legolas countered. "Much earlier than Elphir had intended, I am certain."

"Is that a complaint?" Elrohir queried as he eased the close-fitting vest off. His agile fingers moved to loosen the ties of the archer's shirt.

"Nay, but I would know why." Legolas gazed at the Elf-rider, a hint of hurt in his eyes. "Did you not trust me?" he asked. "Did you think me so weak that I would yield to him?"

Never relenting in the pleasant chore of undressing his prince, Elrohir smiled and shook his head. "I trust you, _melethron_. 'Twas Elphir I was not so certain of. I did not want you to have to ward off any untoward advances by yourself." He leaned down to press warm kisses upon the golden Elf's now bared chest, taking time to suck the rosy nipples. Legolas gasped in delight at each moist tug on the fast hardening buds.

"I am no helpless maiden, Aduial," he murmured pantingly, reaching to remove the warrior's cloak before unfastening his tunic. "Surely you did not think Elphir capable of forcing me to his will."

"Or bending you to his desire. Nay, I did not," Elrohir said, unlacing the prince's breeches while Legolas pushed the tunic from his shoulders. "But I felt it would have been more palatable for many to hear that 'twas Elessar's unpredictable Elf-brother who gave his heir's father-by-law a thrashing rather than the already suspicious Lord of Eryn Gael."

Legolas laughed at the image that remark conjured up. He lifted his hips to allow Elrohir to draw down his breeches, smiled as the warrior pulled off his shoes in the same downward motion. He avidly watched as the twin shed the rest of his clothes before they looked upon each other, mesmerized as always by the first sight of each other's nakedness.

And then their bodies merged, their limbs entwining, mouths clinging, loins writhing wantonly against the other until both were caught in their loving's welcome thrall.

In the midst of his pleasure-induced daze, Legolas noticed in the distance the turrets of the castle. One tower's high windows opened directly on the beach. He thought he saw a dark figure barely distinguishable against the dimness behind it, partly obscured by the draperies framing the window. One thought occurred to him before Elrohir threw the rest into swirling chaos with his ministrations.

"Elrohir, I think—" he gasped as the twin ardently attended to the throbbing ache in the center of his groin. "I believe Elphir's chambers overlooks this – this beach."

"What of it?" The question was uttered around a heated mouthful, the sound of which almost made mincemeat of whatever remained of Legolas' already depleted faculties.

"He-he can probably see everything from up there," he moaned as the Elf-knight's suckling grew ever bolder and hungrier. "Including us!" he managed to gasp.

"Let him."

"Let him?! Are you—?" Explosive completion took him unawares and his hoarse cry rang out upon the empty shore. He fell back, breathing hard, his fair skin pleasantly flushed with the heat of his release.

Elrohir moved atop him, pressing their groins together, grinding his against the archer's with excruciatingly salacious gentleness. Legolas groaned as pleasure darted up his spine in rapid, jolting bursts. As his body came alive once more, Elrohir smiled and pushed himself up to kneel between the archer's legs. He parted the creamy thighs, and lifted the lean hips, an intent gleam in his lust-darkened eyes.

"If the Crown Prince of Dol Amroth wishes to see what he cannot have, that is his problem," he growled. "I am not about to let his sensibilities interfere with our pleasure."

Legolas gasped as he felt himself pierced, moaned as he was utterly filled. He locked his limber legs around Elrohir's waist, drawing his spouse as fully as possible into his body. He soon forgot about whether Elphir could see them or not, stopped wondering if they were being a mite too loud for discretion, ceased to think at all beyond the frantic pounding of their hearts, the molten sweetness of their kisses, the delicious friction between their merged lower bodies. He all but keened as the first waves of their mutually felt, rapidly impending releases inundated him.

They came to satisfaction together, each other's names spilling from their lips even as Legolas spilled his seed between them and Elrohir deep within him. And then they were sinking into a sated embrace, reluctant to part, content to savor the magic of their intimacy.

Elphir watched them from his window, his keen eyes enabling him to observe them in detail in spite of the distance. Despite his earlier acceptance of Legolas' fidelity to Elrohir, he could not help the envy and jealousy that overtook him. Witnessing the Elf-lord take such complete and voracious possession of what he had been denied left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was impossible not to feel some frustration and sorrow.

"Elphir?"

He glanced back; saw his father standing in the doorway regarding him with concern. When he simply looked out the window once more, Imrahil joined him. The Prince did not start when he espied the two slender figures joined in passion on the beach. He merely grimaced as he peered at his son.

"Why must you torment yourself?" he quietly asked.

Elphir parried the question with a remark of his own. "I take it Lord Elrohir did not let you distract him overmuch."

Imrahil smiled grimly. "He only waited for as long as courtesy required before suggesting we returned. I am sorry, my son."

Elphir shook his head. "It would not have mattered. They have been bound for twelve years now, Father."

Imrahil sighed. "As long as that," he murmured.

His son stared at him. "You knew?"

"When I first saw them together during the War, I sensed that something beyond friendship had passed between them," the Prince admitted. "And I felt that Elrohir regarded Legolas as far more than a dear friend. I knew they were no longer merely thus when last I met them together in Emyn Arnen seven years ago. There was an intimacy between them not only of the body but also of the spirit."

Elphir glared at his sire. "Why did you not tell me?" he demanded. "I would not have approached him had I known."

"Would you not?" Imrahil snorted. "And did you immediately desist when you learned of it from him?" The Crown Prince's flush told the story. "Nay, even had I told you, you still would have pursued him. Your obsession with the Elf was far stronger than anything I might have said or done." He nodded in the direction of the Elves. "Only an outright rejection by Legolas himself could bring you back to your senses."

"And if he had not? What then of your intention?"

"I had no fear of that," the Prince said. "Think you Legolas would have betrayed one who is both beloved friend and binding-mate to him? 'Tis inconceivable."

Elphir bit his lip then nodded in agreement. He followed his father's gaze. The lovers now lay quiet on the beach. But they had not parted and lingered in each other's arms. It was a measure of their love that they remained thus after their coupling. Moved by this sight and his father's words, Elphir finally comprehended the full significance of their bond.

Upon the beach, after a long, blissful while listening to Legolas' heartbeat, Elrohir became aware of the pounding of the sea against the shore. He lifted his head and regarded the waves tumbling wildly onto the sand. He looked down at his flaxen haired mate and smiled.

"Come, let us wash and refresh ourselves, _melethron_," he whispered.

With an answering smile, Legolas let Elrohir pull him to his feet and lead him to the water. Laughing, they plunged into the surf, letting the waves wash over their bodies. The water was cold and bracing and rough but they felt neither the chill nor the turbulence and reveled in the surge and crash of waves against their hard frames. But soon they drew together once more, their stately figures melding into one even as their lips merged in heated harmony.

Elphir stared at the two white forms, one crowned with molten gold, the other with shining sable; both oblivious of the lusty waves as their embrace grew ever closer until it seemed one was a part of the other. Unbidden, he felt a sense of awe at the beauty their love evinced. His envy and sorrow waned to a more tolerable degree. Suddenly, he was relieved that he had not succeeded in his attempts to force or coerce the Elven prince into marring that beauty with something so shallow and fleeting as the quenching of his lust.

"They were born for each other," Imrahil said softly, admiringly.

Elphir nodded. What was it Legolas had called Elrohir? _Bereth uin faer_. Spouse of the spirit. Beside the immortality of their vows, the promises of human men and women did indeed seem paltry.

"'Tis strange, my lord, but I feel honored to have been permitted to witness so blessed a union," he said in a bemused voice.

Imrahil smiled and clasped a hand on his son's shoulder. "That you can feel thusly gladdens my heart," he said. "I no longer fear that you will continue to languish over this desire of yours."

Elphir smiled back. "I told Legolas I would apologize to Elrohir," he said. "I had best do so as soon as they return."

"A prudent idea, my son," Imrahil agreed. "I do not wish to have a vengeful Elvenlord stalking my heir."

Elphir chuckled at the similarity between his father's sentiment and his. Gripping the Prince's hand affectionately, he departed. Imrahil watched him go with mingled relief and sympathy.

He had not wanted to be a part of Elphir's attempt to seduce the woodland Elf. But he had gleaned from his observations of Legolas and Elrohir that their binding was strong and true and therefore inviolable. He had also long perceived the kindness and compassion that lay in the hearts of both Elves and sensed that neither was capable of undue severity. In the object of his son's obsession, therefore, he had seen the solution to ending Elphir's craving for the unattainable and trusted that it would be accomplished with the least injury to either his heart or pride. That trust had been well founded.

With a last respectful regard for the lovers, he turned from the window and left the chamber. He had a realm to run and that duty waited for no one. Not even Imrahil the fair, noble Prince of Dol Amroth.

Glossary:  
laer - Sindarin for summer  
Edhil – Elves, Elven  
meleth – love  
melethron – male lover

The End

**Part 25:** Degrees of Comfort – It's trite but true: One of the best things about lovers' quarrels is the making up afterwards. Rating: M


	120. Degrees of Comfort 1

**Summary:** It's trite but true: One of the best things about lovers' quarrels is the making up afterwards.

**Pairings:** Elrohir/Legolas, Elladan/OFC

**Rating:** M for sexual content

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** Not so much of a plot but an outlet for the strange mood I was in when I wrote this so...

_**Degrees of Comfort**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _lairë_ T.A. 40  
There was a definite chill in the air. At the height of one of the warmest summers in memory. At least, that was how Legolas felt at present. He tried to hide his scowl as he followed Elrohir with his eyes.

His mate was busy entertaining the newly elected Master of the Bree-land and his wife and children. In the years after the Great War, the Bree-folk had come to see the advantage of having one of their own officially speak for them in negotiations with other communities. They had thus followed the example of the men of Lake-town and just this past spring had gotten around to electing their first Master. Now the Man and his family had come to Imladris to introduce themselves and satisfy their curiosity about the hidden vale.

Legolas sighed in frustration. Now it was the Bree Master. Before this it had been a party of gregarious humans from the guild of merchants of Esgaroth seeking trading concessions from Gondor. And before that an emissary from the Dwarves of the Ered Mithrin asking that their new but flourishing colony be recognized as a realm in its own right much like Erebor. And before _that_, a group of Lindon Elves sent by Círdan to Rivendell to request something from King Elessar through the twins.

The Elves had come to ask permission for the Firstborn to pass through the Shire in order to get to the Grey Havens. Ever since Aragorn decreed that no "Big People" were to trespass on the hobbits' land, the Elves coming from the east had had to take a roundabout route in order to reach Lindon. Círdan had asked that this prohibition be waived for the Elves at least.

The brethren had readily granted this request. It had been an easy one to decide compared to the other concerns that had been brought to their attention since the fall of the preceding year.

Just before autumn set in the year before, Aragorn had asked his foster brothers to represent him in the north. In effect, he had made them his de facto regents in the northern territories of his kingdom. The decision had been made in the wake of a sudden and, this time, sincere attempt by Harad to forge a lasting peace with Gondor. Embroiled in the negotiations with the Southrons, Aragorn had found it next to impossible to journey north as was his wont and see to his other subjects' needs.

So he had delegated the task to his Elf-brothers, giving them carte blanche to make decisions on his behalf that would be as binding as if he had personally made them himself. As a result, Rivendell had come under virtual siege, with humans, Dwarves and Elves coming with their various requests, demands and problems to lay before the brethren. It seemed only the hobbits had not made a nuisance of themselves, Legolas thought sourly.

He was not really set against the visitors by any means. He knew all too well what duty entailed. But one unfortunate consequence of the great influx of guests at Imladris was the steady decrease in Elrohir's attention to him. Both brothers had been so busy, they had scarcely had the time or energy to devote to their respective spouses.

At least Elladan had had the sense to recognize his neglect of his wife and young sons, Legolas thought, scowling anew. The older twin had announced he would take his family for a short holiday in Eryn Lasgalen and hied off for the woodland kingdom at the end of spring. Legolas had been glad for his sister and imagined his father's pleasure at having little Elendir and Elros to fuss over. But unhappily for the archer, Elladan's absence had left Elrohir in charge of everything for more than a month and therefore busier than ever.

There definitely was a chill in the air.

Legolas watched as Elrohir and his guests headed for the gardens. The Bree Master and his family were basically kindly folk of simple tastes. But one could not fault them for being captivated by the fabled refuge. Even with Elrond long gone and the power of Vilya no longer in effect, Rivendell still retained the air of enchantment that so enthralled visitors, proving that it was its inhabitants and not any ring of power that had long lent the vale its mysterious allure. Was it any wonder that this latest group of guests should desire to explore its entirety even to its gardens and the orchards beyond?

The Master's younger daughter, however, seemed more interested in Rivendell's younger twin lord than in Rivendell itself. Legolas' eyes narrowed.

The maid had grated on his nerves since her arrival. She had been highly appreciative of the comeliness of all the Elves but when she clapped her eyes on Elrohir she had turned patently covetous. Legolas was not surprised. The twins after all were in a league all their own; as fair as Elves yet with the earthy quality of Men that made them seem less aloof than pure-blooded Edhil, or Elves. It was a potent combination. Few could resist their smoldering, sensual beauty. This maid did not even try.

Of course, neither Elrohir nor Legolas could reproach her. Few mortals knew of the matrimonial customs of Elves and even less of the wedding of male and male spirit. In this, Legolas owned that his sister had an advantage. There had been other females who had sought to dally with Elladan but Nimeithel had preemptively claimed ownership of the older twin, thus nipping any carnal ambitions in the bud.

Legolas had no such recourse. Not only would mortals not understand but there was also always the certainty that such news would get back to the south. That would upset the apple cart in more ways than one. No, he could not do as his sister had done. He was forced to depend on Elrohir to keep overly keen admirers at bay.

Which, admittedly, Elrohir did. But he was diplomatic in his methods. Too diplomatic for Legolas' liking. It irked him that the Elf-knight could be so brusque when he dealt with males but oh so gallant when it was the distaff side involved. Oh, he understood it was his mate's way. That Elrohir would always show his gentle side to women no matter how annoyed he might be with them. As he was doing so now with his guest's daughter. Besides, he could hardly chide the minx for something she knew nothing of.

Legolas was aware of this but it did not soothe him one whit. He could not accept the idea of anyone coquetting with his spouse even if it was done out of ignorance. And even less did he like the sight of Elrohir allowing such behavior around him no matter how trifling. He began to seethe as he noted the number of times the maiden placed her hand on the Elf-knight's arm. Pawing him, Legolas thought irately.

He abruptly left the concealment of the shadowed porch from whence he had been making his observations and approached the group. At once, the family eyed him with ill-concealed fascination. They instinctively sensed the difference between him and Elrohir though they did not know what constituted that difference.

Elrohir smiled as he neared them. "I was wondering where you had gone," he said.

To his slight amusement, Legolas slipped between him and the maiden, in effect breaking her hold on his arm. "I was keeping an eye on things," Legolas said cryptically.

Ever a master at reading between the lines, Elrohir raised an eyebrow in some surprise. But this was no place to ask his mate about his apparent pique and he turned his attention back to their guests. At this point, however, the humans' inquisitiveness about the Wood-elves of Greenwood asserted itself and they began to question him eagerly about his realm.

Legolas all but groaned. It seemed his aloofness with them had served to only heighten their curiosity about him and his people. Now he had to deal with their queries, like it or not. After what seemed like eternity, Lindir finally showed up to announce that the midday meal was ready. It was only then, as he was sighing with relief, that he and the others realized that Elrohir and the youngest daughter were nowhere in sight. He offered to look for them and requested the steward to usher the visitors to the dining hall.

Frowning, he followed the tenuous connection that always flowed between him and Elrohir and soon spotted the two just a few yards away beneath the lone apple tree in the garden. The chit was endeavoring to climb it in order to pluck a luscious apple hanging just out of reach. Elrohir was remonstrating with her, offering to fetch it for her.

Legolas gritted his teeth and began to walk toward them. At that moment, the girl slipped prompting Elrohir to catch her. It was then that she crossed the line.

Before Legolas' unbelieving eyes, she snaked her arms around Elrohir's neck and pulled him close to kiss him. It was the briefest of kisses for Elrohir gently but firmly disengaged himself from her embrace. To Legolas it was a woefully inadequate response.

Elrohir saw him then, noting his blazing blue eyes. He prudently sent the maiden on her way then approached his obviously displeased mate.

"Why did you wander off?" Legolas asked sharply.

The warrior was slightly taken aback. "She saw the tree and sought to climb it on her own. I only followed her to keep her from harm."

"Which she doubtless counted on," the archer snipped.

"She is very young and quite ignorant of proper decorum, Legolas," Elrohir said. "She meant no harm."

"Indeed," the prince snapped icily. "But she certainly knows the benefits of an "accidental" fall into your arms!"

"I will not deny her guileful machinations," Elrohir replied, a smile tugging at his lips at this display of his mate's jealousy.

"And you are no ignorant youth to have let her proceed so far," Legolas added sarcastically.

"You can hardly expect me to have anticipated her actions," Elrohir protested mildly. "Besides, what would you have had me do? Be uncivil with her?"

"Had it been her brother who had approached you thus, you would have had no compunctions about that!" At Elrohir's startled expression, he pressed on. "She has been flirting outrageously with you since their arrival. And you have said and done nothing to dissuade her. Being young and ignorant, as you put it, she obviously took that as encouragement!"

"I neither dissuaded nor persuaded her in either direction," Elrohir objected.

"I wish I could believe that."

Elrohir stared at him. This was far more than mere jealousy.

"What is wrong, Legolas? You know I care not for the attentions of others."

"Yet you were so taken with hers that you have not even remembered—" The archer broke off and pursed his lips angrily.

"Remembered what?"

"Nothing."

Elrohir studied his sullen spouse. "Calenlass, her blandishments are nothing more than banter to me," he said. "Surely you know that."

"Nothing more, Elrohir?" The archer sounded hurt now. "This from the one who taught me that bound Elves do not engage in such dealings."

He turned away and hurried off, snatching his hand out of Elrohir's grasp when his mate sought to stay him. The warrior blew his breath out, more disturbed by the archer's sudden anger than he cared to admit.

Legolas stayed away from him for the rest of the day, concealing himself so well no one could tell Elrohir where he had gone. Not even when Elladan and Nimeithel arrived unexpectedly that afternoon did he emerge from wherever he had secluded himself. It was only when the dinner bell sounded that evening that he finally showed himself, joining them quietly as they made their way to the dining hall. But to everyone's surprise, he avoided Elrohir and stayed by Nimeithel's side after welcoming her and Elladan. The older twin looked questioningly at his brother but Elrohir only shook his head. He needed to talk to Legolas first.

There was a collective gasp when they entered the dining hall. It was ablaze with the light of twice the number of candles that were normally used. Festive garlands of greenery and blossoms adorned the windows giving the hall a woodland look. Last but certainly not least, a sumptuous repast had been laid out by Iorwen and her staff. A repast that featured all of Legolas' favorite dishes. For a moment, the archer stared about in shock and then he whipped his head around to look at Elrohir. But the burgeoning elation in his blue eyes swiftly faded when he noted the equal surprise in his mate's expression.

An instant later, Nimeithel swept him into an affectionate hug. "You did not think I had forgotten your begetting day, did you?" she murmured.

Elrohir felt his heart drop to the pit of his belly. Valar! He had completely forgotten the significance of the day. He stared guiltily at Legolas. His guilt increased when the prince looked at him over Nimeithel's shoulder with disappointment then lowered his eyes lest others see the hurt in them. He managed effusive thanks and a smile for his sister and let her lead him to the place of honor.

It was a ghastly feast for the two of them, both feigning merriment while struggling to hide what they truly felt. Elladan and Nimeithel discerned their unease but neither could open the subject before the guests. Near the end of dinner, the strain became too much for Legolas and, taking his leave early, he rose and left the hall. Elrohir's first impulse was to follow him but the Master's wife chose the moment to engage him in conversation. Thankfully, Elladan noticed his predicament and adroitly rescued him.

He raced to their chamber, hoping Legolas had not decided to hide himself once more. He opened the door and halted on the threshold. The archer lay on their bed on his side, hugging a pillow like a youngling. Remorse struck Elrohir hard.

He slipped onto the bed behind Legolas and snaked an arm around his mate. Legolas did not respond but simply buried his face in the pillow. That made Elrohir feel worse. For his proud warrior prince to behave thusly evinced his deep hurt.

"I am sorry, Calenlass," he whispered. "I should not have forgotten this day's import. Forgive me."

He heard a doleful sigh. "'Tis not only this day you have forgotten," the archer said, voice muffled by the pillow.

Elrohir bit his lip. True. He had been so engrossed in his duties he had spent little or no time with Legolas this past month. Not even in their bed, he belatedly realized with perturbation.

Even at night, when they lay together, alone at last, he had been either so tired or his mind still engaged in whatever concern had been brought to his notice that they had not indulged in more than the most cursory of couplings. Instigated more oft than not by Legolas.

"Oh, _melethron_, forgive me," he implored, pulling Legolas tightly against him and dropping soft caresses on the side of his neck. "I never meant to hurt you."

After a tension-fraught moment, Legolas turned over to face him. His eyes glittered in the dim light. "I know," he said in a hushed voice and pressed his lips against Elrohir's.

The Elf-knight answered his kiss and more besides.

oOoOoOo

Legolas' spirits did not lift significantly the following day much to Elrohir's worry. While some of his sense of abandonment had been assuaged by their loving of the night before, it did not completely abate. Elrohir watched ruefully from the stable yard as his mate took off for a day of riding. To try and forget, the twin knew all too painfully.

Theirs was one of the most passionate relationships in Elfdom. It was in the joining of their bodies that they best expressed their abiding love for each other. For Elrohir to have seemingly lost his desire for intimacy with his spouse had been a blow to Legolas. It had given the archer reason to fear that perhaps more than just desire had vanished.

Although eight years had passed since the near unraveling of their relationship, Legolas still bore the scars of his unwitting folly. He had never quite forgotten the scornful words of their erstwhile enemy, impugning his suitability as Elrohir's mate. His subsequent discovery of the ignorance that had almost damaged his bond with the Elf-knight beyond repair had further convinced him of the truth of those words. Over the years, heartened by Elrohir's love, he had slowly let go of his insecurity in this matter. But it would take more time to completely eradicate it.

"May I know what has come between you two?"

He turned to face his curious twin. "I was inconsiderate," he replied. "I even forgot that yesterday was his begetting day.

Elladan looked at him in some surprise. "Only that?" he prodded. "I did not think Legolas would take umbrage at an occasional lapse of memory."

Elrohir shook his head. "'Twas only the last straw."

The older twin regarded him thoughtfully then slung an arm over his shoulders and said: "Come, _muindor_, tell me the whole of it."

And so Elrohir did as they walked back to the house, not bothering to sugarcoat his failings. Elladan stared at him in some wonderment afterwards.

"I confess I cannot believe you allowed things to go that far," he said.

Elrohir nodded. "I am appalled at myself as well," he admitted.

"It would seem that in fulfilling your duties as diplomat and king's counsellor, you forgot that you are also a spouse and lover," Elladan observed.

"I will make no excuses for my error in this," Elrohir said. "Legolas did his best to be supportive and asked only for what was his due. But I failed to give him even that. My only concern now is how to make amends to him. It grieves me that I hurt him." He let out a regretful sigh. "I can think of no gift that could possibly make up for my shortcomings."

Elladan looked at him intently for a few minutes. At length, he said: "No gift can make up for that indeed," he conceded. "Save yourself." At his brother's bemused reaction, he pointed out: "You are his incomparable Elf-knight. He has oft said so himself. Prove it!"

Elrohir stared at him nonplussed for a moment. And then he smiled. "I hope I can think of something – sufficient."

"I am certain your creativity is more than equal to the task at hand," Elladan grinned.

Glossary:  
lairë - Quenya for summer  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
melethron – male lover  
muindor – brother

_To be continued_…


	121. Degrees of Comfort 2

_**Degrees of Comfort**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
Some six days later, Legolas awoke to find himself alone in bed. Disconcerted at first, he then remembered it was the day the delegation from Dale was scheduled to arrive. It was obvious Elrohir was already up and about, preparing for their advent.

He sighed and rose from the bed. He could not fault his spouse for his devotion to his duties. It came with the territory if you were brother to Gondor's king. And anyway, he comforted himself, Elrohir had been attentive this past week if a little distracted at times by his various responsibilities. Until Aragorn released the twins from this particular service, he could expect things to continue as they were.

He walked to the bathing chamber and entered it. And stopped and stared.

The bathing tub was filled with steaming water. And it was fragrant with herbs and spices, this particular combination one of Legolas' favorites because of its soothing effects. Upon the marble bench by the tub, neatly folded, were a fresh towel and bathing-robe.

Elrohir obviously knew him very well indeed for him to have predicted when he would awaken and prepare this luxurious bath before he did. A lovely sense of belonging suffused the archer's being as he slipped into the water. He found himself humming a cheerful tune as he bathed.

He came out of the chamber and again stopped and stared in wonder.

The balcony doors had been thrown open and there on the small table where he and Elrohir occasionally breakfasted was a veritable feast of hot rolls nestled in a small basket, a platter of succulent ham and sharp cheese, small pots of sweet butter and golden honey, a bowl of juicy peaches and a pitcher of heady mead.

And there on the bed, a shirt and a pair of long breeches had been laid out along with a pair of his light shoes on the floor just below.

Feeling ever more loved, Legolas dressed swiftly then sat down to the mouthwatering meal. He wondered with some regret why Elrohir had chosen not to share it with him. He had just plucked a roll from the basket when he saw the sheet of parchment tucked into one side. It was a message instructing him to go to the summerhouse at the edge of the gardens. Legolas suddenly found his appetite healthier than usual this morning.

He had to keep himself from racing to the summerhouse afterwards. Reluctant to betray his eagerness to anyone, he forced himself to walk at a measured pace to his rendezvous. Yet by the time he reached it his heart was beating as briskly as if he had sprinted across the whole of Middle-earth. Taking a deep, calming breath, he entered the delicately wrought structure.

He had not visited the summerhouse since before Celebrian left for the West. It had been Elrond's gift to her after she gave birth to their twins. But in the wake of her departure, her family had seldom used it. Certainly, Elrond had never entered it again, pained as he was by how the memories it evoked reminded him of his loss. Someone, however, had visited it very recently. And altered its interior.

What had once been a feminine retreat was now a notably masculine haven. Gone were the white lounging chair and its dainty pastel colored cushions. That had been replaced with a wide and cozy divan graced by two oversized pillows. In place of the floral-patterned curtains were gauzy beige draperies. And a thick deep green rug now occupied the center of the main room where once there had been several thin mats in varying shades of pink and yellow. The only thing that had not been changed was the table by the largest window. A table that bore a thin stack of large sheets of artists' parchment.

Curious, Legolas went to the table and picked up the pile. His eyes softened as he looked upon the topmost sheet. It bore a detailed sketch portraying him and Elrohir at the dinner table, his own eyes oddly cast down while the Elf-knight appeared to be paying attention to something else. The following illustration was just as wonderfully rendered and also unusual as it showed them riding astride the same horse, with Elrohir behind him.

The third drawing was a shade more intimate. It recalled to him the time when Elrohir had given him a relaxing massage while they were in the baths the evening they'd arrived from Mirkwood soon after his mother's passing. Legolas found himself wondering what might have happened then had he and Elrohir been lovers at the time.

Smiling, he went on to the next illustration. And gasped in shock. Color stained his cheeks and his hands trembled. There, in graphic detail, was he in naught but his open shirt, half sprawled on a couch, one thigh draped over the armrest. And between his legs, bent over his groin was Elrohir using his mouth and hand to... Legolas drew in a ragged breath. Elbereth! What had gotten into Elrohir to commit such an image to paper?

Now quaking, from what emotion he was not sure he wished to know, he peeked at the next sketch. And nearly dropped the whole pile. By the Valar, it was even more wicked!

The remaining sketches were seen through a haze, each as lubricious or even more so than its predecessor. He dropped the stack on the table as if it scalded his hands. One sheet fell to the floor and he retrieved it. It was the picture depicting him with Elrohir down between... He swallowed hard and made to return the parchment to the pile. But for some reason, he could not take his eyes off it. Cheeks now scarlet, he stared at it as if mesmerized.

"And is that the service you desire of me, Calenlass?"

Legolas whirled around almost guiltily. He gaped at his first sight of Elrohir. The warrior was shirtless and barefooted and his form-fitting long breeches left little to the imagination. And he had bound his hair into a single thick plait, a style that pointed up the impressive breadth of his Half-elven shoulders and chest.

"Service?" Legolas repeated, his voice close to a squeak.

"Aye, _melethron_"—lover—the Elf-knight replied with a dangerous smile as he came up to his discomfited mate. "As atonement for my egregious forgetfulness of your begetting day. As penance for my unconscionable neglect of your needs these past many months."

"But I – what do you mean—?" The archer found himself backing away before the warrior's steady charge. "What of the delegates from Dale? You—"

"Elladan will take care of welcoming them," Elrohir drawled. "'Tis time I took care of you, _ernilen_."—my prince.

Something about the way Elrohir spoke and regarded him made Legolas back away even more. He had not seen Elrohir this predatory since he seduced the archer in his own bedchamber in Ithilien. Before he knew it, he had retreated all the way to the divan. Its edge caught the back of his knees and he fell, half-sprawled, upon the plump pillows.

Before he could speak or move, Elrohir bent over and kissed him so thoroughly, he almost forgot to breath. Deft fingers undid his shirt and unlaced his breeches while he was kept too occupied to protest. And then the twin was kissing his way down his exposed torso even as he hauled down Legolas' trousers and yanked off his shoes in one fluid motion.

Legolas nearly howled his pleasure when Elrohir proceeded to make true the image he had sketched. Hips bucking wildly into that all too talented mouth, he clawed at the pillows, desperate for something to anchor him to reality. And then, just when he thought he could take no more, he felt his leg lifted to rest upon one of the armrests. Elrohir thus completed the picture by stroking him from within. It was too much. With a helpless keen, Legolas came all undone.

Spent, he lay back panting, wondering if he would find his way back to sentience again. He was vaguely aware of Elrohir rising to his feet, faintly heard the rustle of paper. And then Elrohir was beside him, gathering his still unwound body into his arms. They remained thus in comfortable silence until Legolas regained some of his composure.

He caught his breath when Elrohir softly sang an ancient Noldorin love song to him in the High Speech. The use of Quenya in any declaration of love or lust between them always brought Legolas back to the time when Elrohir had first confessed his desire for him. It never failed to evoke the same feeling of awe he'd experienced then that the Elf-knight should have so deep and abiding a regard for him. He snuggled happily against his spouse thinking nothing could be more perfect than this moment.

When the song was done, Elrohir treated him to a loving spate of kisses. Legolas felt something placed on his lap. He glanced down and found the sheaf of illustrations resting on his thighs.

"This is my offering to you, Legolas," the Elf-knight crooned. "Twelve ways in as many days by which to bring you naught but pleasure." He indicated the top drawing, which he had just performed most shatteringly on his mate. "This is but the first of them. Select if you will the service that would be of comfort to you for each of the remaining days."

Legolas blinked then stared at him. "What? You want me to – to choose from—?" His eyes fell upon the sheets. Color flooded his face again. "I do not think I can—"

"For my sake, _melethen_"—my love—Elrohir murmured, pausing to run the tip of his tongue along the sensitive ridge of Legolas' ear, making the prince shiver. "Would you deny me this chance to make amends to you?"

Legolas' mouth went dry. The very thought of arranging for his own daily pleasuring was rattling to say the least. Hands shaking once more, he took up the sheets. He hurried through the more risqué sketches, conscious of Elrohir's knowing gaze. Suddenly bashful, he started with what he considered the most innocent of the lot. The sketch of him having dinner with the twin followed by the ride upon a shared steed. The others he hastily arranged without much thought, so discomposed was he by such graphic imagery. He returned the sheets to Elrohir.

"As you desire," the twin whispered. He set aside the stack then, to Legolas' befuddlement, slid down once more between his legs.

"You're not – you're not going to – again—?" the prince stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.

A rakish smile caused his insides to flip-flop. "I said I would perform the service you desired of me," Elrohir grinned. "I did not say I would do it only once."

In later years, Legolas would oft wonder how his lucidity managed to survive those twelve days of Elrohir's self-appointed penance.

As it was, that seemingly innocuous dinner turned out to be far from innocent. During the meal, with the Dale delegates sitting just across from them, Elrohir audaciously reached for his thigh and, under cover of the table and, to Legolas' shock, clutched his way to his groin, loosened his breech-laces and slipped his hand in to fondle him to imminent explosion. All these while Legolas had to guard his expression lest the merest sign of his impending release mark his oddly frozen countenance.

Near to erupting, unable to endure such unexpressed rapture any longer, Legolas hastily swatted his mischievous spouse's hand away, laced up his breeches just enough to keep them up and on him and lurched to his feet. Making some ridiculous excuse to the surprised diners of which he had no memory whatsoever, he hurried out of the dining hall, oblivious of any pursuer. He had hardly gained the privacy of their bedchamber when he was summarily spun around by Elrohir, thrust against the wall and his breeches hauled down brusquely. Whereupon Elrohir swiftly and spectacularly finished him off.

After that he discovered that there were no limits as to where, when or how Elrohir could pleasure him. He learned among other things that, so long as they shared one horse, he could be stroked to completion by the end of a morning's ride. That the hayloft above the stables, the elegant armchair in the Hall of Fire, a bathful of steaming water, a level boulder by the Bruinen, any surgical table in the healing chambers and even a sturdy wall were as suitable for coupling as any bed. He found out that letting Elrohir read to him a bedtime story of the twin's choosing was hazardous to one's peace of mind and groin unless it was followed up by a good and rousing tumble. And that there were occasions where being taken entailed taking the more active role particularly if one was called upon to do the riding.

The twelfth day dawned upon a thoroughly flustered woodland prince. Only one "service" remained to be performed by his mate. But for the life of him, he could not recall what it was.

However, he began to calm down as the day passed quietly. Elrohir spent most of it closeted with Elladan and Lindir and a messenger newly arrived from Gondor. Aragorn was nearly done in his preliminary negotiations with the Haradrim. He was now requesting that the twins come south soon and help him hammer out the finer points of the treaty. The request indicated that the brethren would soon be freed of their obligations as Aragorn's regents in the north.

He and Nimeithel cheerfully agreed that that was good news indeed if it meant their respective spouses would finally be able to return to their normal and, therefore, less hectic schedules and duties. In the meantime, he whiled away his leisure hours playing with his small nephews, amazed as always at their startling likeness. He wondered along with his sister what it must have been like for Elrond and Celebrian during their mates' infancies.

When evening fell and dinner was served and still Elrohir had done nothing out of the ordinary, Legolas began to think that perhaps the twin had forgotten about his avowed comforting for the last day. And when they all gathered in the Hall of Fire for an evening of song and poetry, he came to believe there would be no special activity this night. He did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

It was then that the mild sleeping draught Elrohir had slipped into his wine during dinner took effect. Needless to say, he did not make it to their bedroom on his own two feet.

He awoke to find himself bare as a newborn upon their bed and Elrohir looking down at him with fearsome edaciousness. He started to sit up only to find, to his alarm, that his wrists had been bound together above his head to the headboard with a soft but strong cord. And he had been gently but efficiently gagged with one of Nimeithel's silken kerchiefs. In a flash, he remembered what the last sketch had depicted and his own quavering reaction upon seeing it. Molten sensation surged through him at that recollection.

He stared at his spouse with apprehensive eyes. Elrohir grinned wickedly at him.

"You once told me you cherished every intimate encounter we ever shared before our binding," he said huskily. "Even that one incident when I nearly took you by force." He ran his hand suggestively down one trembling thigh. "I have since wondered what it would be like to ravish you, my golden prince. Shall we find out together?"

Legolas later admitted to the wisdom of his mate's precautionary measures. It was fortunate that Elrohir gagged him else he would have screamed the house down from the sheer ferocity of his several culminations. Prudent of him to bind him else he would have thrashed himself into injury.

Lying helpless while Elrohir did as he pleased with him perversely heightened every single sensation. And as if things needed to be spiced up further, Elrohir took him in whatever position struck his fancy, pounding into him with unprecedented force, which only served to drive Legolas near insane with bliss. Only when he was reduced to moaning sobs and tears of almost excruciating pleasure streamed down his cheeks did his Elf-knight remove the gag and cut the cord. He clung tightly to Elrohir, crying out his release, as he was taken one last time.

Afterwards, as he lay trembling in the warrior's balming arms, he wondered how he had survived such voracious comforting. Elbereth! If this was his spouse's way of atoning for his failings, he might very well be the first Elf in Arda to enter the Halls of Awaiting by way of too much loving!

He felt Elrohir's lips against his temple. He glanced up fuzzily. The twin's eyes were dancing with mingled affection and mischief.

"I trust my debt to you is paid, _melethron_?" he said with a smile.

Legolas had to laugh albeit weakly. "Overpaid is closer to the mark, Aduial," he chuckled faintly. "Ai, the Valar spare me from any more acts of penance. At least, by you!"

Elrohir snickered. "But I so enjoyed making amends to you, my Greenleaf. Indeed, I am looking forward to committing more transgressions against you if by doing so, I may have the pleasure of making up to you for my sins afterwards."

Legolas stared at him, so obviously torn between horror and delight, that Elrohir dissolved into a bout of shoulder-shaking mirth that only ended when the archer pouted in embarrassment and punched him hard. The warrior wasted no time making up for this latest offense either.

It was nigh three days before Legolas was deemed fit to go riding again.

Glossary:  
Calenlass - Greenleaf  
Aduial - Twilight

The End

**Part 26:** Table Manners – Just before yet another formal dinner, Elrohir decides he and Legolas have attended one banquet too many. Rating: M


	122. Table Manners

**Summary:** Just before yet another formal dinner, Elrohir decides he and Legolas have attended one banquet too many.

**Pairing:** Elrohir/Legolas

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Table Manners**_  
_by Eressë_

Eryn Gael, Ithilien, _Cerveth_ F.A. 44  
The slam of the bedroom door was so deafening Legolas all but jumped in his startlement. He set aside his book and looked curiously at his patently irritated spouse.

It was late afternoon on a rare day of leisure for both of them. But just as they were settling onto their bed with a pair of good books to read, as was their habit on these days, a courier from Minas Tirith had arrived with a message for Elrohir.

"What is wrong, Aduial?" Legolas mildly inquired as the twin plopped down beside him with a scowl on his comely face.

"This!" Elrohir said, waving a single sheet of parchment. "We are being recalled to Minas Tirith."

"For what reason?"

"The Harad ambassador and his party will arrive in three days. Estel desires to give him a proper welcome."

Legolas was all the more confused. "But you helped draft the final treaty that is the reason for their advent here. Why are you so averse to Aragorn's summons? Do you have something against the ambassador?"

Elrohir sighed and lay back against the pillows.

"I have nothing against him," he said. "He is a good man by all accounts. Certainly nothing like his predecessor whom you helped unmask. And I am more than glad that we shall have peace with Harad at last."

"Then why this pique?'

"Because I have only just returned home the last two days and must now leave again. I had hoped to spend more time here with you."

Silence met his statement. He was turning his head to see if Legolas was still listening when he was summarily pressed back against the pillows by the archer and kissed with considerable ardor. When his mate released him, his heart was beating more rapidly than usual. He stared at Legolas in surprise.

"What brought that on?" he asked breathlessly.

The woodland prince was smiling beatifically, eyes gleaming with emotion. "You called this home."

Elrohir blinked. "Isn't it?" he said a little nonplussed.

Legolas laughed softly. "You called this home," he repeated. "Here, Eryn Gael, this place that I built but some years ago. Not Imladris where you were born and have lived for centuries."

Elrohir gazed at him, his eyes softening. "But my home is where my heart abides," he said seriously. "And you have ever been my heart, Calenlass."

It was an hour or so before he could think coherently again. As he lay panting after his mate's heart stopping attentions, he could only muse how well Legolas had learned his lessons in bedding an _ellon_. The prince withdrew from him then settled his fair head on his shoulder.

After a moment, Elrohir chuckled affectionately. Legolas lifted his head to gaze at him questioningly.

"You just reminded me of the other reason why I call this home."

oOoOoOo

Minas Tirith

Five days later, Elrohir had reason to be annoyed all over again.

Oh, he had no complaints about the Harad ambassador or his people. They were indeed a far cry from the first group that had come to Gondor more than a score of years ago. The new Southron diplomat was a sage great-heart who believed as heartily in peace and goodwill between realms as Aragorn did. He brooked no foolishness or ill manners amongst his men and was eager to establish fruitful relations between the Reunited Kingdom and his land soonest.

No, it was not the Haradrim party he was set against.

"Another formal dinner, Arwen?" he all but sputtered when informed of the up-coming occasion. "This is the fifth one you will have hosted in as many weeks!"

Arwen exchanged rueful glances with Legolas and Elladan. Behind her, Aragorn and Eldarion hid their smiles behind their hands, an "I-told-you-so" glint in the king's dark eyes.

They were gathered together in the king's study after having had dinner together as was their wont. Elladan had also come south for the spate of numerous events that had previously kept Elrohir too busy to return to Ithilien often. But he had also brought Nimeithel and their children with him. For now his wife was with the twins, putting them to bed, which was no easy task. On one side of the study, Aragorn's daughters huddled together, eyeing their Elf-uncles and Legolas with fascination.

Eleniel, Romenna and Mîrewen were now of an age to take part in the various discussions their parents routinely held with the rest of the family. Indeed, Eleniel was already betrothed to a lord of her choosing and Romenna's hand was being sought by a multitude of noblemen, young and old alike. But the princesses did not lose their wonder at being such close kin to _Edhil_. And they were still amazed by Elrohir's espousal to Legolas though, out of love for their uncle, they assiduously guarded their knowledge and tongues.

For now they watched the proceedings with curiosity and amusement, the latter reaction something they shared with the rest.

Everyone knew Elrohir would do his duty to the best of his abilities. He would never set aside his responsibilities in the name of personal desires. And he did not resent his high position at court whatever it entailed nor did he abuse the power that stemmed from it. But he did detest the trappings that came with said position and power.

Since his long-ago adolescence, he had never been one to enjoy pomp and pageantry. Given a choice between a kingly banquet and an intimate meal, he would inevitably choose the latter even for the most festive or important of occasions. Small wonder he balked at yet another official dinner that would require formal dress, manners and talk.

"Now, now, _muindor_, 'tis the last one we will ask you to attend for a while," Arwen said soothingly.

"That is what you said about the last one, _thel neth_"—younger sister—the Elf-knight pointed out. "In those exact words."

A pair of unregal snickers agreed with him. Arwen glowered at her unhelpful husband and son. Unfortunately, this dinner had been her idea and she could not count on them to support her overmuch.

"You could call it off, _melethril_"—lover—Aragorn suggested, suppressing a smile.

"Nay, I cannot," she retorted. "I already informed Lord Garod and his party of it."

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "You would."

She placed a placating hand on his arm. "Please, Elrohir, you must come, you and Legolas," she wheedled engagingly. "Garod was much impressed by both of you and Elladan. He would very much enjoy your company."

"Really, Arwen, he could enjoy our company any time. I see no reason why I must suffer through the dubious pleasure of another tiresome dinner with everyone forced to be on their best behavior whether they are in the mood for it or not!"

Legolas came to his beleaguered law-sister's rescue. "'Twill not be so onerous if you think about the pleasures you do enjoy."

That caught Elrohir's attention. "Pleasures?" he repeated.

Legolas colored slightly as he recalled the presence of Aragorn's daughters. He had gotten quite used to blunting Elrohir's irate outbursts with certain promises even with Aragorn, Arwen and Eldarion around. And, of course, Elladan was more than used to it after all these years. But the princesses... The others began to grin at his predicament.

"Aye," he said briefly. Elrohir folded his arms and waited for more enlightenment much to his dismay and everyone else's merriment. Legolas sighed and mumbled: "I will endeavor to provide you with a feast more to your liking."

Elrohir's eyes glittered. "I will hold you to that promise, _melethen_"— my love—he all but purred.

A chorus of giggles discomfited Legolas further and he refused to say another word. Arwen jumped into the breach.

"You will join us then?" she pressed.

Elrohir still did not look in the least bit eager. But he said: "I suppose I must."

Arwen was so relieved she failed to note the rebellious gleam in his argent eyes.

oOoOoOo

His mood was not improved significantly when, on the afternoon of the dinner, Arwen inveigled him and Elladan into coming to Merethrond to comment on the preparations. Particularly when it preempted what would have been a couple of hours of intimacy with Legolas. When in the Guarded City, the two took separate bedchambers to avoid calling notice to their bonded status. Thus, they took advantage of any and all opportunities to be together in private, not all nights being available for that purpose.

Nevertheless, he could not help being impressed with the results of his sister's efforts. Arwen had transformed Merethrond into a Harad festival hall based on information gleaned from Aragorn and the twins, which in turn stemmed from their past travels in the region.

Swaths of heavy, brightly colored fabric festooned the walls and festive banners hung from the ceiling. Ornate tapestries flanked the entrances and wide windows. And the scent of fragrant incense from Harad sweetened the air.

In the center of the great hall were three long and wide tables, each seating twelve guests. Arwen had borrowed the Southron custom of draping heavy damask cloth over the tables then arranging exotic blooms and greenery down their centers and tucking in bowls of fruit and nuts here and there. Underneath the tables were large rugs in the jewel colors the Swertings favored, another Harad tradition.

Elrohir's dark mood returned when she informed them of the seating arrangement. The ambassador would sit at the main table, of course, while the rest of his party would be divided amongst the other tables. While Elrohir would sit at the main table beside Lord Garod, Arwen had decided that Elladan, Nimeithel and Legolas would represent the Elves at the other two, which would be presided over by the Prince of Dol Amroth and the Steward Faramir respectively. With his tryst with Legolas interrupted and now learning he would have to sit through the night apart from his mate, Elrohir started to feel thoroughly put upon.

Elladan stifled a chortle as he watched his twin heave an exasperated sigh when their sister continued to enthusiastically expound all her plans for the evening. After dinner, they would proceed to the battlement where she had arranged for entertainment to be performed under the stars. Poetry readings, minstrels and dancers—it promised to be a long night. With a certain need still unattended to, Elrohir was all but ready to explode from frustration.

It was while he was glaring at the main table that his expression suddenly changed from irate to thoughtful. Elladan regarded him suspiciously. His suspicion deepened when Elrohir failed to hear Arwen tell them that they could go and prepare themselves for the evening. He clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, startling him.

"What are you thinking of, _gwanneth_?"—younger twin?—he inquired. "You aren't going to back out of this dinner, are you?"

Elrohir glanced at his sister and noted her pointedly raised eyebrows. He shook his head. "Nay, I gave my word I would be present. Legolas and I will be here tonight."

Arwen smiled anew and left the hall to dress for the evening. Elladan, however, could not quite let go of his suspicions. He continued to observe his brother as the latter took another long, musing look at the table. What was so interesting about it?

That evening, Legolas was surprised when a young page asked him to go to Merethrond at once. At Lord Elrohir's request. The prince was puzzled. Why would Elrohir want him to get there ahead of the other guests?

Arriving at the hall, his puzzlement increased. There was no one here, not even Elrohir. Even the servants and retainers were all busy outside, seeing to last minute chores.

He heard it then in his mind. A come hither whisper telling him to approach the main table, which stood in the center. His curiosity piqued, he obeyed the summons, wondering where in Arda the Elf-knight had hidden himself. He came up to the table and stood between two chairs, perplexed.

A strong hand shot out from beneath the table, grabbed his ankle and yanked him literally off his feet. Legolas half cried out as he landed on the mercifully thick rug. Winded, he lay gasping for breath, only partially aware that he was halfway under the table. With no further warning, he was gripped by the hips and unceremoniously hauled all the way to vanish beneath the graceful drapes of the tablecloth.

Dazed by the rapid flow of events not to mention his fall, Legolas was slow in coming back to full awareness of his surroundings. When he did, he discovered to his consternation that he could not move his arms. Someone had strapped his forearms to his waist with a thick leather belt. He raised alarmed eyes to peer into the twilight gaze of Elrohir.

Legolas opened his mouth to demand what his _bereth_ thought he was doing only to be silenced by a deep kiss. When Elrohir drew back, he quickly placed a finger on the blond archer's lips and with a gesture indicated to him just where they were. It was with patent shock that Legolas realized they were right beneath the dinner table, hidden only by the voluminous fabric draped over it.

A moment later, they heard the sounds of guests entering. Elrohir smirked while Legolas frowned when they heard Eldarion hastily ask Elladan where Elrohir and Legolas were. The king and queen were about to arrive with the ambassador and here was an empty seat at the main table. Elladan offered to vacate his place and take his twin's. Empty seats at the other tables would not be marked as much, he assured his nephew.

Legolas glared at Elrohir only to be distracted by more kisses. Caught up in his spouse's all too potent caresses, he only vaguely heard the entrance of Gondor's King and Queen and their ambassadorial guest. Walking to opposite ends of the table, Aragorn and Arwen then took their seats, the signal for everyone else to follow suit. Both were quick to note the younger twin's absence. Arwen was hard-pressed not to roll her eyes in resignation while opposite her, Aragorn decided not to rile his wife by stressing the obvious about her brother's unpredictability.

Legolas became all the more conscious of the need for silence as he heard the guests begin to converse. Then with a jolt, he felt Elrohir's hands on his clothing, spreading his formal tunic open and swiftly undoing the ties of his shirt. The woodland prince was not fond of speaking through his thoughts but aware of the need for silence he was forced to do so now.

_Loose me, Elrohir_, he demanded.

_Nay_, came the rather smug answer.

Legolas almost gasped as he felt his shoes yanked off and his breeches peremptorily pulled down his legs.

_What in Arda are you doing?!_ his mind virtually shrieked.

_Having the feast you promised me_, Elrohir wickedly replied. He regarded what he had uncovered. _And I think there is no delicacy in Middle-earth to rival what you have to offer, melethron._—lover.

The prince blushed, groaning inwardly at his mate's outrageous observation. He tensed as he felt Elrohir's warm breath directly above his groin.

To one side, a long leg unwound and accidentally kicked the Elvenlord. Scowling, he looked at the offending limb. He suddenly grinned as he recognized its owner. Elrohir punched the leg hard.

Elladan, seated to the left of the ambassador, nearly yelped at the blow to his leg. He glanced down in shock, wondering what had hit him. _Or who?_ Using a deliberately dropped napkin as an excuse, he bent down slightly and lifted the tablecloth. He peered beneath the table. On the other side of the ambassador, Eldarion glanced at his uncle curiously.

It took all of Elladan's willpower not to bolt upright at the sight that greeted him. There was his missing law-brother lying helplessly under the banquet table, tunic and shirt spread open and stitchless below the waist. Bent over the vicinity of the hapless prince's groin was his equally missing twin, his raven tresses obscuring his face as well as the activity he was engaged in, the nature of which was blatantly apparent, obscured or not.

Elladan forced himself to sit up as calmly and naturally as possible. He bit down hard on his lip, clamping down on the urge to go into hysterics. Eldarion barely kept himself from staring at the Elvenlord. His uncle was not given to such behavior. At least, not in public. He wondered...

Catching Elladan's eyes, he nodded towards the tablecloth at his knees with a questioning lift of an eyebrow. Elladan gave a slight nod in return. Eldarion gingerly lifted the cloth while replying to a question aimed at him by the Southron diplomat. He managed a swift peek at the goings-on below. He nearly gagged on a gasp a mere second later. Hastily dropping the tablecloth, he glanced once more at Elladan, manfully struggling to keep from laughing out loud. His expression was not lost on someone who knew him very well.

Arwen wondered at her brother and son's odd demeanors. She threw them a questioning look. They replied by dropping their eyes pointedly to their laps. The Queen followed their motions. She stiffened as she heard what sounded like a moan coming from below. Almost at the same time, Elladan began to cough rather loudly, effectively attracting everyone's attention to him. Arwen stared at him then at the tablecloth at her knees suspiciously.

Surreptitiously, she raised the fabric and took a quick peek underneath. She nearly gaped at the sight of her other brother having a feast of his own under their very noses. Quickly dropping the cloth, she sat up straight once more and managed a ghastly smile. That in turn attracted her husband's attention.

Aragorn noted his wife's expression and wondered what had distressed her so. But no, she wasn't in distress, he realized. Just shocked. He observed her as she exchanged glances with Elladan and Eldarion. Then all three glanced down at their laps. A royal eyebrow rose as Aragorn saw his foster brother nonchalantly raise the tablecloth then lower it hurriedly before giving the others the barest of nods.

He was about to voice a query when he heard a familiar chuckle emanating improbably from just below his knee.

That did it. Curiosity getting the better of him, the King of Gondor did exactly as his foster brother, son and wife had done just minutes earlier. A second later he was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, a frozen expression on his countenance. Elladan and Eldarion saw his face almost in the same instant. Then, to Aragorn's horror, they looked at each other and smiled. The king began to consider the possibility of abdicating his throne before the night was through.

Elrohir stifled another snicker as he regarded his limp but well-satisfied mate. Grinning roguishly he leaned over and captured Legolas' lips in a searing kiss. The blue eyes flew open and the prince began to squirm once more.

_Not again!_

_But Calenlass, that was just the beginning. Now we go to the meal proper_.

Eldarion watched his wife pluck a strawberry from the bowl before her. Ilien adored the plump fruit and happily chewed on it with almost sensual abandon. Suppressing a smirk, her husband skillfully palmed a few, passing his hand over the bowl without anyone the wiser that the contents of the dish were now lessened by several berries. The Crown Prince slipped his hand beneath the tablecloth.

The faintest of snickers reached his ears even as the fruit was snatched from his open hand. He pursed his lips, quelling by sheer will the laughter that was threatening to explode from him. He noticed Arwen glowering at him. Throttling his hilarity, he began to choke instead. Lord Garod looked at him in alarm and reached out to pat him vigorously on the back.

Elrohir placed one strawberry between his teeth. Bending down he offered the fruit to Legolas. Mesmerized by the sensuality of the gesture, Legolas parted his lips and took half of the fruit into his mouth. Elrohir bit down on it allowing Legolas to take the severed fragment into his mouth. As he did so, their lips brushed together and kissed, the sweetness of the fruit in their mouths lending an extra piquancy to the caress. They parted, chewing slowly as they gazed at each other. Elrohir made short work of the remaining fruit, drawing out the last kiss until Legolas was bucking against him needfully.

The prince nearly drew blood as he bit his lower lip to keep from making any sound. But it was near impossible not to do so when his spouse nibbled and nipped at his throat, moved on to pay loving attention to his chest, traveled down the rippled planes of his belly until finally he ended his journey between his legs and proceeded to lick and delve him with his tongue. That nearly drove the archer insane.

_Finish it now, Elrohir!_ he demanded. _I cannot take any more of this!_

The Elf-knight shifted position, an almost feral smile on his sinuous lips.

_With pleasure_.

Legolas barely smothered a groan as he was taken swiftly and deeply. Not that he was complaining. He was past protesting. Way past. He struggled against the constricting belt.

_Please, release my arms. I need to touch you_.

The belt was swiftly yanked off and Legolas wasted no time reaching out to pull Elrohir down to him, sealing their mouths together. In near silence, they strained with and against each other, Legolas locking his powerful legs around Elrohir's waist. Sinking ardently into the welcoming heat, Elrohir reached between them to caress the archer to renewed and turgid arousal.

Elladan burst into animated and patently inane conversation with Eldarion and Lord Garod when he heard the sounds of impending completion below his knees. At his end of the table, Aragorn just managed to stop himself from groaning out loud. The odd paroxysms of their expressions since the start of the clandestine feast beneath the table had not failed to register on the Harad ambassador. Garod was sneaking curious glances at them every now and then.

With his Elf-brother and son in mischievous complicity with the pair below and his wife struggling to maintain her dignified mien, the King could only hope that nothing worse would happen than the Southron diplomat thinking Gondor's royals a rather odd bunch indeed.

oOoOoOo

Arwen was all prepared to deliver a stinging rebuke to her brother when the two joined them and the other guests on the battlement. Outwardly, both looked impeccable. But she did not doubt that their attire hid myriad evidence of their covert indulgence. She did not fault Legolas in this. He would never have instigated or even agreed to such an egregious escapade. Oh no, Elrohir was at the bottom of this scrape.

"How could you do this?" she hissed at the younger twin behind a sweet smile. Before them, a minstrel was about to begin another song.

"'Twas necessary," he coolly replied. Before she could respond, he mildly informed her: "You called me away this afternoon at a most inconvenient time. I had a most pressing need to attend to."

It was a few seconds before Arwen could reply. While Legolas blushed at his spouse's customary frankness, the others tried to smother their grins.

"I apologize if I inconvenienced you, Elrohir," the queen said at length. "But that does not change the fact that you broke your word that you would be present."

Elrohir suddenly and dazzlingly smiled. "But, _thel vell_, we _were_ present."

It was with utmost difficulty that the rest of the family managed to keep from expressing their mirth. It would have been unforgivable to laugh in the middle of the performance of one of the most mournful love songs ever composed.

oOoOoOo

On the eve of the ambassador's departure for Harad, Aragorn and Arwen were seen to hasten to one of the best-known taverns in Minas Tirith. Summoned by an oddly countenanced Faramir, they came upon the entire Southron party having the time of their lives downing hearty peasants' fare while being regaled by an array of bawdy performances.

In the midst of it all, dispensing ale and wine and – horrors, Arwen thought – Imladrin miruvor, were Elrohir and Elladan while, to one side, Legolas was busily passing out platefuls of meat from the largest roast boar this side of Anduin. When the brethren did not decline a shouted request for a song, their sister could only raise a dainty hand to her suddenly throbbing forehead. And the song they chose to perform...! She glared at her now guffawing husband.

The questionable performance came to an end. While his men lustily applauded the twins, Lord Garod staggered up to Gondor's royal couple and, with a hiccup, smiled broadly. "We must thank you for such a splendid send-off, majesties!" he happily and loudly proclaimed.

His people noisily cheered their agreement.

The Southron diplomat raised his tankard and bellowed. "To peace and goodwill between our realms forevermore!"

Glossary:  
Cerveth - Sindarin for July  
Aduial - Twilight  
Calenlass – Greenleaf  
ellon – male Elf  
Edhil – Elves  
muindor – brother  
bereth – spouse  
thel vell – dear sister

The End

**Part 27:** Double Trouble – Baby-sitting Elladan's rambunctious twins can lead to the most interesting situations as Legolas and Elrohir discover. Rating: M


	123. Double Trouble 1

**Summary:** Baby-sitting Elladan's rambunctious twins can lead to the most interesting situations as Legolas and Elrohir discover.

**Pairings:** Elrohir/Legolas, Elladan/OFC

**Rating:** M for sexual content

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

_**Double Trouble**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris F.A. 60  
Golden light streamed through the veiled windows as Anór slowly made her ascent into the early morning sky. But to Elrohir, her bright glimmer was no match for the incandescence of his shining prince. He let out a shuddery breath as each lowering motion of Legolas' hips gloved him in sweet velvet heat.

In the throes of passion, Legolas was ever more beautiful to behold. That only he had the privilege and the right to see the archer thusly was a gift the Elf-knight never took for granted. He gazed intently at his mate as the other slid down upon him, willingly piercing himself with each sinuous movement. Crystalline eyes glazed with rapture, rosy lips parted in ecstasy, ivory skin stained with the faintest of color, he repeatedly sheathed his darkling spouse in the silken core of his being.

Twilight eyes gleaming lustfully, Elrohir reached for the prince's hand and drew it between them, keeping his grip on him. He smiled when Legolas' eyes widened questioningly.

_Pleasure yourself, melethron_.

The prince's cheeks flushed with deeper color but he obeyed. His breathing turned ragged as he became conscious of the sweeping gaze of his spouse, watching his pleasure-suffused countenance, dropping lazily in appreciative regard of his slender yet muscular form straddling him before settling on the steady stroking of their coupled hands. A throaty moan escaped his lips. Even the way the Elf-knight looked at him had the power to undo him.

Sensation swept through the binding-channel as they wholly surrendered themselves to their joining. The sight of Legolas with golden head thrown back in the extremes of rapture, gasping helplessly as he came to the brink of completion pushed Elrohir over the edge as well.

He hastened their shared caressing even as he thrust up to take the archer deep and hard, spending himself copiously within. Legolas unraveled completely. Barely stifling a keening cry, he sobbed out Elrohir's name as his body exploded with his release.

He all but collapsed onto Elrohir's chest. For several moments, they lay quietly, waiting for their hearts to slow down, their breathing to deepen. Legolas raised himself slightly to gaze at his mate, resting one arm on the twin's chest. Elrohir looked him over languidly. Silver gold hair tousled, fair skin marked with crimson and purple bruises, Legolas looked thoroughly debauched and thoroughly loved.

"Have I ever told you how prettily you blush?" Elrohir teased softly.

Legolas' eyes flashed objectingly at the use of the term "pretty." He was about to make a retort when something crashed against their door. No, make that two things. Elflings on the cusp of adolescence to be precise.

The prince stared in apprehension at the door, expecting it to burst wide open and reveal him still atop and astride Elrohir, as bare as the day he was born and in the most indecent of poses. But though the insistent pounding on the other side continued, the door did not yield.

"Elros! Elendir! I would have a word with you two!"

Iorwen's exasperated outburst elicited a duet of chortles before the sound of fading footfalls announced the departure of the second set of twins to grace – or plague – the Last Homely House's hallowed halls.

Legolas sank back down on Elrohir's chest with relief. The Elf-knight chuckled. "You need not have worried. I bolted the door last night."

Legolas looked up at him with some amusement. "How foresighted of you," he remarked.

"Only prepared," Elrohir said. "Think you I would leave anything to chance with those two around?" He reached behind and caressed his golden mate's firm but nicely rounded bottom. "I have no liking for interruptions particularly when you are so deliciously engrossed in your riding."

Legolas snickered then moved to get off his spouse. Elrohir held him down firmly.

"Nay."

Legolas stared at him, heat beginning to pool in his groin all over again.

"What of breakfast?" he inquired, not really interested in said meal.

Elrohir rolled them over. He grinned wickedly at his once again rosy-hued mate.

"This is breakfast enough for me," he drawled. And bent to partake of his spouse's ample offerings.

It was late morning when he came upon Elladan in the archery yard, overseeing his sons' training. While the warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, were more than capable of instructing the twins in weaponry use, Elladan still personally took part in their lessons. He was merely following in his father's footsteps for Elrond had done the same even if his sons had been under the able tutelage of Glorfindel and Erestor.

Elrohir smiled approvingly as his nephews showed time and again that they were indeed their father's sons. Elladan's proud countenance betrayed much the same sentiment, only greater.

"So, why was Iorwen after the _pin nith_ this morning?" the younger twin asked. The housekeeper's ire had not dissipated by the time he and Legolas had emerged from their chamber, her black mood palpable in every word and deed and scowl.

Elladan's smile faded and he sighed, shaking his head. "She had bread dough rising overnight," he said. "They made good use of it. You should have seen the kitchen."

Elrohir did not know whether to groan or laugh. Because of the coolness of early spring, yeast doughs took longer to rise than usual. Hence, Iorwen's practice of leaving her pans of dough to double in volume overnight. He wondered what Elendir and Elros had done with last night's batch. On second thought, he decided he did not want to know.

He mildly inquired of his brother if he planned to leave Imladris in shambles. Their father had not left the refuge in their hands only to have it fall apart at the soonest possible opportunity!

Elladan grimaced then rolled his eyes. "Nimeithel and I need a rest," he said. "A long one!" He regarded his twins with equal parts love and annoyance.

"Then come with me to Lindon this summer," a deep voice interrupted.

The brethren turned around to affectionately bid their grandsire good morn. Celeborn had come to live with them thirty years ago. Torn between his yearning for his departed wife and the still powerful hold Middle-earth had upon him, the former Lord of the Golden Wood had abandoned East Lórien and come to Imladris to be with his grandsons. In them, he saw glimpses of his beloved lady – in their sage eyes, their indomitable spirits, their blithe beauty. They balmed his lonely spirit as he gradually weaned himself from the allure of these Hither Lands. It was something the brethren understood.

Elves who had never seen the light of the Two Trees, who had not previously tasted the rarified bliss of Valinor could hardly be expected to wish to leave the land of their birth and cleave to one that was foreign to them in every respect. One such as Celeborn, who was amongst the few who had survived through three ages of the world, would also be most hardily bound to Middle-earth. Eventually, his heart's yearning would win but, for now, he needed to wrestle himself free of the tender fetters of his birthplace.

Elladan considered Celeborn's invitation. It was not the first time their grandsire had journeyed to Lindon since his arrival in Rivendell. The Grey Havens, too, held memories of his years with Galadriel for they had dwelt there for a time ere they moved east to Lórien.

"'Tis tempting, Grandfather," he said. "We have scarcely had any time to ourselves since the twins became more active."

Elrohir snorted. "I can think of more appropriate words than 'active,' _gwaniuar_"—older twin—he gibed. "They are veritable whirlwinds."

Celeborn smiled dryly. "Hardly surprising considering your own less than placid childhoods," he pointed out. "'Tis a credit to your father that Imladris still stands. Would that it stays standing until you see fit to join him over sea."

Elrohir guffawed while Elladan could only sigh in resignation. His mind was made up for him a few days later.

Not even in his and Elrohir's day had the barracks of Rivendell been so set on its figurative head. But what did one expect when virtually every warrior found his beddings infiltrated with sweets that attracted seemingly every ant and other sundry insects with a sweet tooth in the valley! After pacifying the plentiful victims and punishing the two perpetrators of this latest crime, Elladan decided enough was enough. He and his wife would take that much needed rest, thank you!

Elrohir and Legolas knew better than to gainsay him even if the prospect of tending to their unruly nephews for the length of a season was not exactly inviting. When Elladan was in a state of extreme dudgeon, his rage could equal his twin's and that was an even more fearsome prospect in everyone's opinion.

oOoOoOo

The afternoon before their departure, Nimeithel took some time to settle herself after all the hustle and bustle of preparations for a two-month stay at the Grey Havens. She roamed the gardens, letting the colors and fragrances of the blooms and greenery soothe her somewhat frazzled spirit.

Truth be told, she felt a little melancholic this day. Elladan had not been exaggerating when he declared they'd hardly had time together for so long. But even more lacking than the length of time was the quality of it. Even intimacy, or rather the spontaneity and variety of it, had been sorely lacking. In this she was more at fault than Elladan.

So taken had she been with motherhood that she not been as attentive to her beloved husband. Hopefully, this sojourn away from the cares and worries of raising their twins would help mend things. But she was conscious of a need to do something more active in hastening said mending.

She came upon the summerhouse at length and paused to regard it curiously. She knew it had been seldom visited in the years after Celebrían's departure and the reasons for such neglect. She herself had only entered the cottage twice before and that had been during her first years of marriage to Elladan.

But in recent years, Elrohir had taken it and transformed it into a retreat for himself and Legolas. Nimeithel realized she had not yet seen what changes her law-brother had wrought upon the cottage. Her curiosity got the better of her and she pushed open the door.

She never got to study any alterations in detail. For as she stepped into the summerhouse, her attention was snagged by the most telling of sounds. She froze. Was that a – a moan?

A wooden latticed panel by the door served as a divider between entrance and main hall. Cautiously, noiselessly, she peered through the latticework into the main hall. She nearly gasped out loud.

Two magnificent forms reclined on the thick rug in the center of the hall. Two magnificent forms presently indulging in the most intimate of encounters.

Nimeithel's eyes widened at this sight of her brother and law-brother. She had always known of their passion, their vigorous loving. But to be aware of their concupiscence was one thing; to actually witness it was an entirely different matter.

Trembling nervously, she moved to retreat before either became aware of her presence. That was when Legolas uttered the most unusual of sounds. It told of exquisite torment, the likes of which she had never heard before from her own husband. What in Arda could the Elf-knight be doing to elicit such a vocal testament of excruciating bliss from her brother?

Drawing a deep breath, she peered once more into the main hall. And all but goggled. A few moments later her brother found blessed if explosive relief. He lay panting, staring dazedly at Elrohir as he crept up between his thighs, too spent to do much more than whimper.

When Elrohir, smiling wickedly, urged the fair archer's legs around his waist, Nimeithel knew she had seen enough. She did not think her proud, fierce warrior brother would appreciate the idea of anyone watching him surrender so completely. Not that she had any intention of ever letting him know she'd observed them. Still, accidents happened and if she did inadvertently slip up, she wanted to be able to honestly say that she had seen nothing more than Elrohir's initial pleasuring.

Face scarlet at having witnessed such intense intimacy, Nimeithel beat a hasty retreat. But even as she all but flew from the cottage, she found herself wondering about what she had seen.

She was aware that their relationship was equal on all levels. Legolas took Elrohir often as well; he had hinted that much to her during their sibling confidences. Proudly at that, she grinned to herself. But also as if it were an honor. He was almost reverent when he alluded to it.

He knows Elrohir's pride, she mused as she walked back to the house. For the younger twin to yield was the greatest proof of his utmost love and trust. Before Legolas, Elrohir had never submitted to any of the male lovers he had bedded. Not even for curiosity's sake had he considered yielding even once. In this, he and Elladan had differed.

Elladan. Nimeithel stopped in her tracks.

Legolas had enjoyed what Elrohir had done to him. Indeed, enjoyed was a flagrant understatement. If such had been the effect of Elrohir's attention to that particular part of her brother's anatomy, might it not be the same for...?

Her eyes widened with delight. A mischievous smile graced her beauteous countenance, calling to mind Legolas' own expression at his most wicked.

Mayhap I shall have to let him know what I saw, she thought. How else will I get him to tell me what to do? For a moment, she wondered if she could stomach Legolas' expected reaction. But images of her husband being reduced to the same straits strengthened her resolve.

Legolas could yell and sputter and curse all he wanted but she would drag the information out of him if she had to!

oOoOoOo

It was late evening when the Elven princess dared to approach him. The brethren were in the study, busy discussing something of import, which meant Legolas was alone at present. She hastened to his room.

He had been at the writing desk, taking care of correspondence when she sought entry. Now he rose from the table and smiled welcomingly, correctly discerning her reason for coming to him.

"What is it, _thel neth_?"—younger sister—he said indulgently.

Nimeithel gulped and said: "I need to know something before we leave tomorrow."

"I suspected as much," Legolas grinned. "Ask."

Heart beating madly, Nimeithel drew a deep breath and, without pausing in between words, queried: "What was it that Elrohir did with his fingers while he was, er, suckling you that you enjoyed so much?"

She held her breath as her brother stared at her for a moment, stupefied. And then his countenance came alive, reflecting a riotous mix of emotions, the most blatant being downright shock.

"What do—?" he spluttered. "How—?"

"I saw you this afternoon – in the summerhouse," she admitted. "'Twas not on purpose," she hurried on as his eyes widened.

"You spied on us?" he growled, eyes now flashing angrily.

"I did not intend to," she countered. "Indeed, I was hastening to leave but then you made a sound of such – such divine bliss, it rendered me curious as to what Elrohir was doing to you. And so I – peeked."

"_Nimeithel!!!_"

She winced at his bellow. What would the others make of it? she flusteredly thought. For surely no one could have failed to hear it. Yet she stood her ground. She was the sweetest tempered of Thranduil's children but she, too, bore a streak of her family's legendary pride and stubbornness. She could be as mule-headed as her brothers when she wanted something.

"You need not shout," she huffed. "Just tell me what he did and I will go."

Legolas stared at her as if she had grown a set of horns and a snout. "Why in Middle-earth do you want to know _that_?" he demanded when he found his voice.

In that instant, her courage failed her and she blushed deeply. Suddenly feeling uncertain, she could only squeak: "Elladan."

Her brother stared at her a moment. "Elladan?" he echoed.

She nodded in patent embarrassment. "I have dreadfully neglected him these past many months," she explained a little stumblingly. "We shall have these two months to ourselves and I should very much like to do something special for him – something different."

The effect of her answer on Legolas was astonishing to say the least. One moment he was fuming and glowering at her in umbrage. The next, his stare gave way to raised eyebrows, wide eyes and the dawning of a particularly wolfish grin.

"I see," he murmured thoughtfully. Of a sudden, his grin turned positively evil. He reached for her right hand and held it up, studying her fingers. He looked at her. "You will have to shorten your nails first," he informed her.

For a spell, she gaped at him uncomprehendingly. And then she realized what he was implying. The wicked smile that came to grace her face mirrored his.

oOoOoOo

Elrohir grinned as his brother mounted his horse behind Nimeithel with considerable relief. It was quite clear that Elladan, while very much a loving father, was truly feeling the need for a respite from his sons' numerous and incessant scrapes. Not to mention time alone with his wife without the constant threat of an untimely interruption.

His grin widened as he noted the gleam in Elladan's eyes when he curled his arm around Nimeithel and pulled her just a bit tighter against his tall frame. The older twin pressed a kiss against his blushing wife's slender neck.

"Fie on you, _tôr iuar_"—older brother—Elrohir chuckled. "You have not even left Imladris and already you are rutting like a horse. Will you trouble Grandfather's sleep on the way to Lindon?"

Elladan snorted and looked just a tad defiantly at Celeborn. The Elvenlord simply shook his head in amusement and said: "I assure you I will look the other way should you decide to amuse yourself before we reach Lindon. But do keep the noise down, if you will. I would not care to frighten the horses."

Elrohir and Legolas guffawed while Elladan had the grace to grin with scapegrace charm. He looked one more time at his sons.

"I expect you to behave yourselves," he admonished them, not for the first time.

"We will, _Ada_"—Papa—the twins chorused.

"In a pig's eye," Legolas scoffed, resorting to his Dwarf friend Gimli's favorite expression of scepticism. Nimeithel caught his eye and winked at him conspiratorially. He winked back with a smirk.

The travellers rode out of the courtyard of the Last Homely House. As soon as they were out of sight, Legolas and Elrohir turned to regard their nephews.

Both looked utterly adorable and utterly innocent. Their uncles knew better.

Autumn had never been so looked forward to before.

Glossary:  
Anór - the sun  
melethron - male lover  
pin nith – young ones

_To be continued_…


	124. Double Trouble 2

_**Double Trouble**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
The Last Homely House, Imladris  
The warrior looked up from the report he was reading. Was someone calling to him?

"Elrohir!"

He peered out the window of their bedchamber and saw Legolas in the gardens below signaling to him to come down and go to the back of the house. The archer's tone of voice brooked no delay or refusal to accede to his summons. With a sigh, Elrohir set aside the sheaf of parchment sheets and left the room. _Now what?_

Since the departure of Elladan and Nimeithel for Mithlond with Celeborn but two weeks ago, he and Legolas had seldom had a moment's peace. Elendir and Elros were proving as much a handful as he and Elladan had once been though not necessarily for the exact same reasons.

Elrond's sons had rocked Rivendell with the pranks they had enjoyed unleashing on the vale's various inhabitants. But they had never courted danger for themselves or others in the line of mischievous duty and any visits to the healing chambers had been for the most minor of bumps, cuts and bruises. Elladan's sons were a different case. They liked plaguing the valley's citizens to distraction as much as their father and uncle once had but they were also inclined to end up in the hands of the healers simply because they were too exuberant for their own good.

They were constantly colliding with walls and trees and posts as well as each other and everyone else in the name of play. As soon as they had learned to climb they had tried out their skills on just about everything and anything that looked interesting. Thus, they had steadily progressed from tables to trees to the Last Homely House's steep rooftops. Not a week seemed to pass that they did not make a trip to the healers for medical attention for gashes, abrasions and lumps. About the only thing they had not had to be treated for as yet, thank the Valar, were broken bones.

As Elrohir hastened to meet up with the archer, he thought a little uncharitably that, while broken bones were not in the least to be desired, a sprained ankle now and then would do the twins some good. Not to mention the beleaguered healers and all those they had targeted for one prank or another.

When he came out of the house, Legolas grabbed him by the arm and wordlessly led him beyond the stables to the poultry yard. Several servants were gathered around the enclosure that housed the fowl population of the Last Homely House. Elrohir came to a stop and stared bemusedly at their nephews' latest handiwork.

The red-crested cocks and hens that normally strutted about with proud, almost arrogant elegance were staggering about, crashing into each other and anything else in their way. And they were clucking most idiotically and vociferously. If he did not know better, Elrohir would have thought them inebriated for they behaved as any drunkard would.

"What is wrong with them?" he asked worriedly, peering into the pen.

Legolas let out an exasperated breath. "Our dear nephews laced their feed with ale," he said.

Elrohir stared at him in shock. Elbereth! The poor things _were_ inebriated!

"And have you dealt with them?" he queried, wincing as a couple of hens stumbled over each other, then started a wobbly fight as a consequence.

"I confined them to the library for the day to help Lindir and Ailios catalogue the new books and scrolls," Legolas said. "With luck, that should keep them out of trouble for a while. I hope."

Elrohir sighed and shook his head. He grimaced in sympathy as he observed one amorous but unfortunately confused cock try to mount one of his fellows and receive a vicious peck for his trouble.

oOoOoOo

The Grey Havens, Lindon  
Elladan looked up from his book as Nimeithel swept into their room in the seaward wing of Círdan's house, the wispy skirt of her dressing gown trailing behind her. He set the book down to look at his wife with more than mere appreciation. The raiment she was clad in was very fetching indeed, especially since it hinted at the very delights it was supposed to conceal. His storm blue eyes darkened.

Thus far, they were enjoying their reprieve from raising their much loved but all too gamesome twins. Strolls by the pebbly shores of the gulf, relaxed sorties around Mithlond proper, late night trysts under the stars... As far as Elladan was concerned, the last was the most rectifying activity of all.

He had missed having his wife to himself. He had missed having his wife, period.

He grinned now as she slid enticingly onto the bed beside him, her eyes sparkling with far from innocent intent. He was about to teasingly ask her what she had in mind when she suddenly pulled the covers off him, baring him to her gaze.

Elladan did not blush, of course. He felt no shame or shyness with her. Not after all his countless years of carnal adventuring. But he was surprised at her forward behavior. Nimeithel was a most willing and wanton partner but he took the lead more oft than not in their couplings. After all, she had been a maid when he first loved her and as such had been under his tutelage in love-play for the better part of their relationship even unto their marriage.

"You are bold tonight," he remarked softly as she let her grey eyes sweep and linger on his tall frame.

"With one as beautiful as you, my love, 'tis difficult to restrain one's self," she purred, slipping between his legs, nudging them apart insistently.

Again, he regarded her with some surprise. But he was distracted when her gown parted down the front to reveal naught but her own flesh to his gaze. He drew in his breath sharply as the very sight of her charms caused his groin to heat up deliciously. It was what she was waiting for.

With a smile of purest lust, Nimeithel dipped her head and proceeded to attend to her husband's suddenly aching need. Elladan gasped at her audacity before deciding to let her have her way with him. It was not a difficult decision at all considering the delightful havoc she was wreaking upon him. Besides, she had proven a most adept pupil in this particular form of pleasuring him. Who was he to complain? He was not in the least averse to letting her indulge him through this well-taught act.

Caught in her sensual thrall, he did not notice what she was about. Did not realize how she intended to employ her lithe and slender fingers. Until she did.

Celeborn nearly leaped from his bed. Sweet Eru! Was that Elladan he had just heard? He was all set to race to the neighboring room when he suddenly recognized the nature of the sound that had awakened him. For a moment, the Elvenlord stared at the wall that separated him from his grandson. And then he groaned, got back into bed and pulled a pillow over his head.

The following morning dealt him another cause for discomfiture when Círdan mildly alluded to his inability to sleep soundly the night before. It was all he could do not to grab the shipwright by his beard when the latter had the cheek to tell him that it seemed his grandson had taken after him in such vociferous expressions of bliss if his memories of Celeborn's long ago Lindon nights with Galadriel were accurate!

oOoOoOo

The Last Homely House, Imladris  
Ordinarily, the study was the best place in which to report an infraction to the master of Rivendell. But on this day, it was the worst. Indeed, any enclosed space was highly unsuitable and Legolas thought Daurin should have realized it.

He did his best not to snicker as Daurin recounted his latest encounter with Elendir and Elros. Or rather with the jest they had played on him. It was difficult to keep a serious mien when Rivendell's formidable captain smelled like a bouquet of varied blossoms, the aroma of it seeming to expand and deepen in the warmth of the chamber.

Indeed, Elrohir had risen to his feet and stayed by the open window behind Elrond's august desk almost as soon as Daurin entered the room. It was the only way he could keep from passing out from the overpowering sweetness that emanated from the Imladrin captain. He glanced at his mate who sat by the other window and had to stifle his own smile. Yet he was also filled with exasperation anew, an emotion that seemed to be in great supply these days.

Daurin's tale was but the latest in a string describing the escapades that would have done the twins' parents proud had they been of a more productive nature. Unfortunately, replacing part of the captain's herb-scented bath oil with a mixture of their mother's flowery fragrances did not fall in that category. And even more unfortunate for the good captain, the lordlings had gotten wind of his habit of pouring the oil in after he had immersed himself in his bathwater and put the knowledge to effective use. Daurin had not sniffed the altogether feminine scent of the brew until much too late.

Both Elvenlords sighed with relief when the warrior exited the study, fanning the air in front of their noses most emphatically. The less than pleasing aroma of the combined scents of lavender, roses and gardenias lingered for a spell in the room. Elrohir looked across at Legolas with an expression that defied description.

"Count yourself fortunate that they have not turned their dubious talents on us thus far," he remarked.

Legolas laughed. "Nay, they adore you too much to besmirch your dignity in any way. And if I have been spared, 'tis simply because it would displease you were I to be similarly besieged."

Elrohir grinned but shook his head. "You belittle your worth to them," he said. "They do not touch you either because they worship you, Calenlass. As I do."

The last he added under his breath, regarding his spouse with ill concealed wanting. Legolas felt his heart start to beat erratically. Just one look...

"They will have to be chastened for this latest misdemeanor," he managed to say. "Have you decided on the manner of it?"

Elrohir continued to gaze at him, the glittering argent of his eyes darkening with each passing moment. "We will think of something suitable," he said. "Later."

And his manner of speaking, Legolas thought distractedly. Low and suggestive and all too beguiling. He swallowed hard as Elrohir beckoned to him to join him. Warmth suffused him as he moved to do as he was bid.

Elrohir sank down upon the windowsill and pulled him onto his lap, compelling Legolas to straddle his hips. A moment later, the archer was lost in a pillaging kiss that left him bereft of breath and thought while knowing hands mapped the hard planes and contours of his lean form. He surrendered to the intoxicating sensuality of the Elf-knight's caresses.

He closed his eyes as the warrior's lips followed the sculpted line of his jaw before slipping lower to nibble at his throat, dipping his tongue seductively into the hollow at its base. And then his mouth was captured anew and plundered voraciously, until he was shuddering with the pleasure of his imminent undoing.

Elrohir slipped his hand down between them and, with maddening slowness, began to stroke Legolas' crotch with the flat of his palm. The archer groaned gaspingly against his mate's silencing lips as he was deftly and inexorably brought to molten arousal. He tensed with delicious anticipation when he felt Elrohir tug at the lacing of his breeches.

The door burst open and slammed against the wall hard enough to leave a fine web of eggshell cracks on the surface. Elros rushed in prompting his uncles to swiftly break apart, Legolas springing to his feet, fervently hoping his long shirt would hide the telltale evidence of his arousal. He and Elrohir stared at the younger half of Imladris' twin harbingers of disturbances.

Elros was quite a sight, his shirt muddied, his breeches torn at one knee exposing a nasty bloodied bruise, his hands crisscrossed with scratches and his temple hosting a rapidly purpling lump. Yet for all that, the lad was startlingly comely, promising to be as beautiful as his father and uncle when he came of age.

Elladan's sons closely resembled him and his twin but traces of their woodland grandsire's striking features gave them a look all their own. They were also more elven in their frames than their father or uncle and thus bid fair to be as slender as Legolas. But their most compelling features were their eyes, the dove grey irises intriguingly ringed by deep blue.

But this was not the time to indulge in idle contemplation of the twins' beauteous luminosity.

Elrohir rose from the sill, prudently tugging his own shirt into place. Other Elves would have been alarmed by the youngster's appearance but to the Elf-knight and his archer spouse, it was no more than the usual thing to expect of either twin.

"What happened to you, Elros?" he queried. "And where is Elendir?"

"I brought him to the healers, Uncle," the youth said. "They think he may have broken his wrist."

With admirable calm, Elrohir merely shook his head and said: "And what were you two doing that led you to this pass?"

Elros flushed with embarrassment. "We, um, got curious about Uncle Las' new stallion," he admitted.

Legolas rolled his eyes in active annoyance. "You mean you attempted to ride him," he tartly corrected. When Elros reluctantly nodded, the prince added acerbically: "Considering that I have yet to break him in, you are fortunate 'tis only your brother's wrist that was broken. Ai, you two will never learn!"

Elros bit his lip then looked entreatingly at the Elf-knight. "Will you not come and see Elendir, Uncle Rohir? He is quite frightened."

"As he should be," Elrohir retorted. He strode out of the study, Elros hurrying after him.

Legolas heaved a frustrated sigh. Couldn't the twins have waited until his need had been attended to? he thought sourly. He and Elrohir had not had a decent coupling since the youngsters had been left in their charge. There always seemed to be one situation or another involving them that needed their immediate attention, leaving little time for extended bed-play. He was beginning to understand Elladan's oft voiced frustration. Scowling, he followed his spouse and nephew to the healing chambers.

Fortunately, the suspected break turned out to be nothing worse than a sprain. Both younglings were tended to swiftly. But Elrohir's observant gaze brought something else to his attention.

He eyed his nephews severely. "Were you the only ones injured?" he questioned.

The lads flinched. Their guilty gazes darted to the neighboring room where a pair of healers was busy administering to two Imladrin warriors.

"Helmir and Dirion tried to help us when the stallion went wild," Elendir admitted.

"And thus suffered hurt on your account," Elrohir finished for him. "You have gone too far in this instance, _pin nith_."—young ones.

The twins gulped. They oft pushed the limits of their elders' tolerance but they were not so heedless as to draw their uncle's well-known fearsome anger down upon them. Elrohir's tone of voice held a warning: a faint one but very real nonetheless.

"I am in no position to chastise you for the jests you inflict on others," Elrohir said sternly. "But to risk serious injury or worse to yourselves or anyone else is not only foolish but deplorable. You will apologize to Helmir and Dirion and make amends soonest for your misconduct. Do I make myself clear?"

Elendir and Elros bowed their heads in shame. "Yes, Uncle," they whispered in tandem.

After both children departed for their rooms, Legolas clapped a hand on his darkling mate's shoulder.

"Well done, Aduial," he murmured. "They need to be disciplined here and then."

Elrohir smiled wanly. "They are as we once were," he sighed. "'Tis difficult to fault them overmuch when Elladan and I did much the same in our foolish youth."

Legolas shook his head. "But you were ever careful to avoid hurting anyone," he said.

"Save for their pride," Elrohir had to grin.

"Better their pride than their precious skins," Legolas pointed out. "'Tis something our nephews need to learn."

He started when Elrohir suddenly snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

"And you, _ernilen_?"—my prince?—he teased huskily. "What do _you_ need?"

Legolas gasped as he was clutched anon below the waist. "You should know since 'twas you who induced it," he rejoined, trying for indignation and only managing compliance as his hips treacherously thrust into the warrior's clever hand.

"Then let me take care of it," Elrohir crooned mischievously, backing the archer up against the bed Elendir had just vacated.

"Here? Now?" Legolas almost choked. He looked about disconcertedly only to discover that everyone had discreetly left them alone.

"Here. Now." Elrohir smiled wickedly and lowered his wide-eyed, crimson-cheeked mate onto the bed.

Glossary:  
Calenlass - Greenleaf  
Aduial - Twilight

_To be continued_…


	125. Double Trouble 3

_**Double Trouble**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
The Last Homely House became even less peaceful with the arrival for a summer's visit of the hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. The Master and the Thain had taken a month's leave from families and duties and come to Rivendell for a spell.

Both had weathered the years very well, still looking quite as youthful as when they first set forth on the Quest with Legolas all those decades ago. Of course, they had matured since then and, when attending to their duties in the Shire, comported themselves with the dignity and restraint expected of them. But every now and then, their lively natures exerted themselves, whereupon they would hie off to Rivendell or even far-off Rohan or Gondor that they might cast off the cares of their stations in life.

Their visit happened to coincide with Gimli's. The Dwarf had also taken time off from his responsibilities as Lord of Aglarond. He was as affectionately bluff with his friends as always and managed to convey his great pleasure at seeing them all again without turning maudlin about it.

The further reduction in peace had to do with the fact that all three visitors were given to loud declarations of their opinions on just about everything. But they were most clamorous about the perils of being anywhere near Elladan's rambunctious twins.

Nevertheless, their presence was as much boon as bane to Elrohir and Legolas. With Elladan and Nimeithel enjoying their holiday in Mithlond with Celeborn and Iorwen and her husband, Ailios, and even patient Lindir determinedly keeping well out of the way, they were both at their tethers' end. Now they gleefully drafted their friends into taking turns with them in keeping an eye on the twins. Or, as Gimli growlingly put it, sentry duty.

"Your nephews are an unmitigated menace to society, Legolas!" Merry declared after witnessing yet another of the brethren's scrapes that had their uncles packing them off for a day's confinement in their rooms.

"Worse than a menace," Pippin remarked. "I cannot for the life of me understand how any two creatures could cause so much trouble!"

Legolas skewered him with a glare. "Coming from you, Master Peregrin, that is the height of irony," he said. "Mayhap I should recall to you the trouble two other creatures I know have caused over the years."

Gimli chortled as the Halflings turned a nice shade of scarlet and alluded no more to the mischief any two beings could perpetrate. Nevertheless, he and they did their utmost to avoid being saddled with the daunting chore of keeping Elladan's sons out of trouble. And Legolas did his utmost to ensure that they did come in for their share of watching over the brethren.

oOoOoOo

One particular sunny day, Elrohir thankfully retreated to the study to go over the backlog of reports, bills and correspondence. Ordinarily, the Elf-knight loathed the tedious trial of paperwork but today he was almost happy to take care of it if only because it was a welcome excuse to get out of watching over his nephews. Instead, he had foisted the thankless task on Legolas. The blond archer had not been amused and his eyes had promised dire retribution before the day was done.

The Elvenlord perched on the edge of the ornately carved desk that had been Elrond's. Never fond of the all too stately high-backed chair behind the table, he preferred to casually sit on the desk itself and go through the numerous documents upon it. He was just scowling over the atrocious scrawl of a merchant from Bree when he heard shrieks of laughter emanating from the garden. Sighing, he rose, letter still in hand, and sauntered to the window.

He reached it in time to espy two slight forms darting past, giggling like mad. He watched interestedly as they vanished into the grove of trees beyond the garden. He waited expectantly for their pursuer to appear.

To his surprise, it was not the Elven prince who came racing after Elros and Elendir but two pucker-faced hobbits, both shouting imprecations not fit for children's ears and threatening bloody murder. On their heels was Gimli, huffing and puffing, yelling at them to remember that it was a crime to strangle Elflings and would they all please slow down?!

Elrohir bemusedly watched them disappear as well into the grove. Their appearance begged two questions. Where was Legolas and how did he persuade the three to take his place?

The door to the study opened. Elrohir turned to see the fair-haired archer close the door behind him. He regarded him suspiciously as he approached. Legolas seemed a mite too nonchalant.

"What are you doing here?" he mildly inquired. "You were in charge of the twins."

Legolas snorted. "If you think I am going to spend the day keeping our nephews from breaking their precious necks, you are sadly mistaken!" he informed the warrior.

Elrohir had to chuckle. "And just how did you convince Gimli, Merry and Pippin to take over from you?"

"I did not," Legolas smirked. "They were quaffing that foul beer of theirs on the terrace. I merely directed the twins' attention toward them."

"Indeed." Elrohir frowned. There was more to this tale than Legolas was letting on as yet. "Would you care to enlighten me as to why the hobbits seem bent on ending our nephews' lives?"

Legolas snickered. "I believe it has to do with the amazing effects a cup of vinegar can have on a pitcher of beer."

"Elbereth! Vinegar?" A gust of laughter escaped the Elf-knight. "I wonder. Were Elladan and I as bad as that?"

"Worse, if Erestor's stories about you did your dubious achievements justice."

Elrohir laughed again. "Poor Erestor," he said. "I cannot count the number of times he threatened to sail for Valinor while we were growing up. Not that it got any better when we did. And then you showed up as well."

Legolas grinned. "We were holy terrors, weren't we?" he chuckled.

Elrohir shook his head. As he did, he recalled the letter in his hand. With a sigh, he walked back to the paper-laden desk.

"Surely you aren't going to spend the whole day doing that," Legolas protested.

"I have no choice," Elrohir replied. "With Elladan away, all the paperwork falls to me." He picked up a sheaf of bills. "Would you have the Last Homely House invaded by a horde of unpaid merchants?" he pointed out. "_Adar_ would never have countenanced it."

He perched once more on the table edge, trying not to take notice of Legolas' disapproving stare. He began to scan a new document. Frowning, he turned and sifted through the other scrolls and pages, searching for something. Finally, he rose to his feet, recalling that the item he wanted was in the sole drawer of the desk.

Instead of taking the time to walk around the desk, he stretched over it, resting his stomach on its shiny surface. He pulled out the drawer and searched its contents until, finally, with a grin of satisfaction, he found the sheet of parchment he'd been looking for. So intent was he on his chore that he failed to hear the sharp intake of breath behind him.

He closed the drawer and began to push himself up from the tabletop. To his surprise, he felt the full weight of Legolas' body bearing down on his back, pinning him to the desk.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" he exclaimed.

He gasped as he felt the archer's hands snake around his waist and tug at the lacing of his breeches. He tried to get up but Legolas would not budge. Soft yet demanding lips caressed the side of his neck even as skillful hands slipped into his breeches and stroked him steadily. Elrohir struggled to clear his suddenly lust-fogged senses.

He was in the middle of another protest when he felt his trousers hauled down and his shirt lifted to bare his backside. The archer pressed hard against him.

Panic hit him then. "You cannot—!" he gasped.

He yelped as the prince proved he very well could. Elrohir could do nothing but take the brunt of his mate's sensual assault. Shocked at having been taken unawares, dazed by the spiralling pleasure he felt with each thrust into his body, he found himself unable to think clearly. Until his eyes fell upon the door. He did think of something then with horror.

"Legolas, stop!" he implored. "Someone might walk in on us!"

"Since when did you care about that?" was the prince's arch rejoinder. Elrohir could _hear_ the wicked grin in his voice. He moaned as Legolas refused to relent.

"I care not about full-grown Elves seeing us thus," he managed to sputter. He groaned at a particularly hard thrust. It was becoming increasingly difficult to think coherently. "But Elros and Elendir may come in here," he panted. "Legolas, we cannot let them see this! They are too young!"

The prince chuckled. "So, you do have limits after all."

To Elrohir's relief, Legolas stopped and slowly withdrew. Assuming his words had penetrated the archer's passion-blurred mind, he began to push himself up.

Thus he was shocked anew when he was suddenly turned around and hoisted bodily onto the tabletop. Before he could say a word, his shirt was virtually ripped open and the prince resumed his attack. His mouth, throat and chest were swiftly invaded with such vigor that it took both his breath and voice away. Then with startling speed, Legolas whipped off his breeches and shoes in one fell swoop and pulled his long legs up and about his waist.

Elrohir cried out hoarsely as he was filled once more. With almost luxurious deliberateness, Legolas buried himself to the hilt. He stared up at the prince in uncharacteristic shock and amazement. Legolas' smile was positively feral, his eyes brimming with lascivious fervor.

"I want to see your face when you find your pleasure," he purred rakishly. And then he was pounding into his dazed spouse again. Elrohir could only grab at the archer's arms on either side of him and hang on for dear life.

Legolas seldom got the better of him in their couplings. For sheer length and breadth of experience and audacity, Elrohir was almost without peer. But taken by surprise and so peremptorily taken, he had to own himself bested this time. There was no getting around it.

Perversely, the very thought of Legolas so ravenous for him that he had turned this rapacious, made him feel an excruciating stab of pure pleasure. He gazed woozily at the fell beauty of the countenance above him, thought the Elven prince had never looked so exquisite as he did right now – shining gold locks cascading over his shoulders, sapphire eyes ablaze with passion, finely wrought lips dipping ever so often to claim his in heated harmony.

He groaned as Legolas took his now rampant need in hand and stroked it as fiercely as he was driving into him. Their pleasure flowed unhindered between them, heightening every sensation to near unbearable. Elrohir came undone at last, his release unleashed with explosive force. He vaguely heard Legolas' huskily uttered, "Beautiful." And then the prince surrendered to his own completion, spending himself deep within his spouse.

Elrohir lay quietly for a moment, panting slightly, with Legolas' head upon his chest. He could not believe what had just happened.

"You are getting to be impulsive," he managed to say. "Not to mention learning how to improvise."

The prince raised his head and grinned at him. He was flushed and breathing heavily as well.

"I have a most excellent example to follow," he cheekily replied.

Elrohir chuckled and shook his head resignedly. "Ai, Legolas, you will be the death of me yet."

"I?" the prince glowered at him with mock outrage. "And just who enjoys bringing my heart rate to unholy levels whenever possible?" he demanded. "Not to mention stealing my breath when I need it most!"

Elrohir laughed weakly. "Very well, I plead guilty as charged," he said. "Now, have mercy on me and let me up, Calenlass."

"After I catch my breath," the archer retorted, laying his head upon the twin's chest once more.

Elrohir sighed. He did not have much of a choice save to wait upon Legolas' leisure. He was at a distinct disadvantage at the moment, still supine, still pinned down, still impaled since the prince had not seen fit to withdraw from him.

"Thank Elbereth the twins did not think to come here," he murmured. "That would have aged me by ten centuries at the very least."

"You need not have worried," Legolas said smugly. "They would not have come in."

Elrohir raised a questioning eyebrow, "And how could you be so certain of that?"

The prince looked up at him and smirked. "Because I bolted the door."

He grinned triumphantly as blatant surprise registered on the Elf-knight's face. The full implications of his answer hit the warrior with the force of a furious gale.

"You planned to do this?" he gasped incredulously.

"I swore you would pay for inflicting our unruly nephews on me." The prince leered at his suddenly speechless spouse. "Besides, you presented me with a most irresistible opportunity when you bent over this desk. I simply could not forego the chance to do some delectable delving to pass the time."

Elrohir groaned. "All right, you have had your revenge. Will you kindly let me up now?"

"Nay."

The blue eyes flashed salaciously. With yet another jolt of shock, Elrohir became aware of being fully filled once more as the prince came anew to a proud and potent arousal.

"Valar!" he gasped as he was pushed down once more, his wrists held down to the desk on either side of his head.

The archer's grin widened. "Don't count on getting any more work done this morning, Aduial," he cooed. "I have a most pressing need that demands your undivided attention."

Elrohir hissed protestingly at the prince's renewed onslaught. True, it was thoroughly enjoyable. His body heartily approved of the abuse it was taking. But he did dislike being bested and being bested twice in a row at that! Just as he was beginning to feel umbrage at such usage, Legolas gazed down at him with gleaming eyes wide in wonder and love.

"Just looking at you is enough to undo me," he whispered fervently. "I love you so much. I can never get enough of you, Elrohir _nîn_."—my Elrohir.

Umbrage promptly forgotten, the Elf-knight happily conceded defeat to his fair-haired prince and eagerly abetted in his own delightful torment.

It was fortunate that the door and walls of the study were thick and solid. No one heard the unlikely sounds that echoed within the room. And none guessed at the uncustomary use Elrond's elegant desk was put to that bright summer morning.

Glossary:  
Calenlass - Greenleaf  
Adar - Father  
Aduial - Twilight

_To be continued_…


	126. Double Trouble 4

_**Double Trouble**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
The stag was fleet and strong and enduring. Other predators had long failed to best it as it outran or outwitted them. But the hunters now on its trail were as fleet and strong and enduring. They could not be outrun or outwitted.

The stag reared up on its hind legs as an arrow struck its flank, slowing it down. A second one speared its throat. It collapsed, thrashing its hooves wildly in its death throes. And then it twitched feebly and went still.

The Elves emerged from the sparse brush to collect their prey. This was no chase for the mere pleasure of it. With Edhil, it never was. While they could and did find excitement and a sense of accomplishment in the hunt, such feelings were rarely the motive to seek and slay game. Survival was and always would be their paramount reason for taking life of any kind.

The larders of Imladris needed to be replenished and Elrohir and Legolas had thus led a large hunting party out into the hills and forests surrounding the vale.

The carcass was carried back to the clearing where other beasts they had downed were cached. A wild boar, hare and pheasant, another pair of deer...these were loaded onto a makeshift litter, which would then be hauled by two elven steeds. The Elves prepared to head home.

A frightened cry rent the silence followed by a menacing growl. Taking up the rear, Legolas flung himself from his mount and raced in the direction of the alarming sounds. There was no mistaking the owner of that cry. Elros!

He burst into a tangled glade not far away and came upon a sight that chilled his very blood. A few yards from him were the twins. Elendir had tripped over a trailing vine, his ankle caught in its loops. Elros was trying to free him but his panicked movements only hindered him further. Stalking them, its jaws grinding in anger, was a huge black bear.

An instant later, the beast bore down on the helpless twins. Swift as quicksilver, Legolas sprinted forward to come between them and the bear, yanking his sword from its sheath in one fluid motion. He threw himself at the animal as it launched itself at the brethren, sword plunging savagely into tough hide and solid gristle.

The bear roared in fury and pain and attempted to snare the Elf's arm with its fearsome teeth. Legolas evaded the grasping jaws and managed to stab his blade into the brute's breast. The bear screamed and lurched backward, staggering as it did. It shuddered convulsively then fell to the grass with a thud. A moment later, its eyes glazed over into eternal oblivion.

Legolas stared at it, blue eyes darkening with emotion. He barely acknowledged Elrohir's quick squeeze of his arm before the Elf-knight dropped to his knees before the Elflings. He paid little heed to the other hunters either as they looked on in worry and curiosity.

Elrohir cut Elendir loose then looked from one twin to the other, twilight eyes glaring.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"We wanted to watch the hunt," Elros admitted.

"Why did you not say so?" Elrohir snapped. "We would have taken you with us had you told us of your desire."

The twins glanced at each other guiltily. "We did not think of it until you had left," Elendir confessed.

"And we thought it would be fun to see if we could track you," Elros added with just a touch of pride. "And we did."

"And nearly died of it," Elrohir caustically pointed out. "You had best keep in mind, _pin nith_, that being immortal is not the same as being invulnerable." Having checked them for injuries and finding none, he queried frowningly: "How did you get away from Gimli?"

This time both had the spunk to grin. "'Twas easy," Elendir said smugly. "Uncle Gimli thought we were in our rooms."

"So we climbed out through our windows," Elros finished with a smirk.

Their smiles promptly faded when Legolas suddenly spun around and glowered at them with such rage as they had never seen him possess before.

"And you are proud of yourselves!" he spat. "You think yourselves clever to have eluded your guardian. But have you given even one thought to the consequences of your folly?"

Both brothers stared at him in some fright. Their woodland uncle was so sweet tempered as a rule they could scarce believe his fury now. They looked to Elrohir for succor but he kept his silence, rose to his feet and stepped back from them. That alarmed them even more that the Elf-knight should deny them his protection.

"We – we meant no harm, Uncle Las," Elendir bleated out anxiously.

"And we are th-thankful for your rescue," Elros added timorously.

"A rescue that cost an innocent animal its life," Legolas charged heatedly. When they stared at him in perplexity, he became even more irate. "In all my years, I have never slain a wild beast save for sustenance or to defend myself. This bear would not have attacked you if not for your reckless disregard for caution!"

"What – what do you mean, Uncle?" Elros asked confusedly.

Legolas strode back to the carcass and, with his foot, rolled it over. He bent and pushed the matted fur aside. The twins gasped as he exposed swollen teats. The bear was a mother and one that had recently borne cubs.

Legolas straightened up and stared angrily at them. "She came after you because she thought you were a danger to her young," he said in a hard tone. "Had you taken care to avoid her territory, she would not have attacked you and I would not have had to kill her." His eyes turned glacial. "And now that she is dead, her cubs will surely perish unless we can locate them. And even if we do, there is no guarantee that we can save them. Wild beasts need their parents' care as much as any other creature under the sun."

The twins wilted visibly, their faces turning pale. The further tongue-lashing they received from their fair-haired uncle for their ill-advised escapade served to shrivel them to ashen silence. When he was done with them, he turned away and led a quick search for the cubs. After a moment, the brethren joined in the search, their young hearts aching at the thought of these wild orphans now bereft of their mother's care and protection. But their efforts were to no avail.

The bear had hidden her young well. Her instinct to defend them would now prove their doom. Heartsick, the Elves mounted their horses and headed home.

It was a nightmarish trek for the twins. The hunters deferred to their lords' wishes and it was clear both were displeased enough with the youngsters to maintain cool silence with them. Legolas remained remote, his Wood-elven respect for animal life making him seethe at such a useless killing. Elrohir did not speak with them either; even did he disagree with Legolas over his handling of the matter, he would not and never say so before their nephews. Neither he nor Legolas would ever undermine each other's authority in any manner; disagreements were always discussed behind closed doors.

Thus, by the time the hunting party arrived in Rivendell early the following morn, the twins were reduced to near tears. They stammered out their apologies to an initially fuming but afterwards forgiving Gimli before fleeing to their rooms to sob their hearts out. They did not show themselves for the rest of the day.

Only for the evening meal did they finally emerge from their bedchambers, persuaded to come down to dinner by kind Lindir. But they were duly subdued, unable to look save fearfully at Legolas who himself remained in a dark mood. Elrohir kept a neutral mien, unwilling to show sympathy for one side or the other before Lindir, Gimli or the hobbits. He left it to the Dwarf and Merry and Pippin to lend some levity to the meal. Lindir, meanwhile, managed to coax both Elflings into partaking of the dinner, helped somewhat by the surprising appearance of some of their favorite viands and pastries.

Gimli glanced at Elrohir, wondering at the coincidence. The faint gleam in the warrior's eyes told the tale and the Dwarf grinned at this subtle show of loving regard.

After the less than convivial meal, the twins hastened back to their quarters, eyes gleaming with more unshed tears, affected by their uncles' unyielding demeanors. Almost as soon as they vanished, Legolas rose as well and, without a word, left the hall. Elrohir stilled the impulse to follow either nephews or spouse and took the time to explain what had occurred to the anxious hobbits. For once, neither Halfling could muster a witty rejoinder.

Some thirty minutes later, Elrohir went in search of his spouse, their bond leading him to the gardens. He soon found Legolas standing beneath an old oak, gazing up at the stars through its outspread branches. His eyes glittered with blue flame in the dark, a telltale salty streak marking his cheek. Elrohir came up to him and drew him into his arms.

Legolas leaned into his balming embrace at once and pressed his hot face into his Elf-knight's neck. For a few minutes they remained thusly as Elrohir waited out the archer's grieving mood.

"I was too hard on them," Legolas said at length, nuzzling his mate's throat in his need for comfort.

Elrohir shook his head. "Not all lessons can be taught in kindness, _meleth_"—love—he said. "They needed to be chastened."

"But their faces this evening... They looked so lost and afraid of me—" He let out a shuddery breath. "They could not even look at me." He embedded himself further in Elrohir's embrace. "I do not desire that, Aduial," he whispered. "I do not want them to fear me."

"Yet to chastise them, we must sometimes inspire fear in them," Elrohir pointed out gently. "Even Elladan and Nimeithel do so."

"But I have never heard them deal with the twins so harshly as I did," Legolas sighed. "I fear I went too far."

Elrohir cupped his face and made him meet his gaze. "If you were harsh, 'tis because you love them and feared for them, Calenlass. 'Twas not only their folly that roused your anger but also the sight of them in peril." His argent eyes gentled further. "And if they took your anger so much to heart, 'tis because they love you and esteem you so highly that to plummet in your regard is a painful blow to them." He wiped the last tear from the archer's elegant cheekbone with his thumb. "You would not be the uncle they adore or the Elf I so love if you did not act as you did for their sakes."

He pressed a kiss to the prince's lips. It was chaste and sweet and heart-stoppingly tender. It soothed Legolas' sore spirit immensely. He swiftly responded and for several minutes they gently plundered each other's mouths, Legolas comforted by his Elf-knight's inimitable loving. He let himself be carried along into another realm where pure emotion and sensation reigned; knew the night would end in the molten fusing of their bodies and souls. The prospect of such ardent oneness with each other more than eased his troubled heart.

When they parted, Legolas smiled gratefully at his spouse, his spirit serene again. At the questioning look in Elrohir's eyes, he said: "I would like to take a walk before we retire."

Elrohir nodded and let him go. He watched the archer until he vanished into the darkness beyond the gardens. He then turned thoughtful eyes to the house, perusing in particular the windows of one bedchamber.

Legolas returned from his stroll nearly an hour later. Finding the bedchamber he shared with Elrohir empty, he did as his mate had done earlier and let their connection lead him until he came to Elendir's room. The door was slightly open and he heard Elrohir's voice from within. He peered inside.

A long and comfortable couch directly faced the door. Ensconced in its middle was Elrohir, a twin on either side of him, Elendir nestling his head against his uncle's chest whilst Elros rested his upon the warrior's shoulder. They were raptly listening to Elrohir's tale, which seemed to be about some captivating adventure from what Legolas could hear. He studied them musingly.

They looked so much alike that one who did not know them might mistake them for brothers. Indeed, in the flickering glow of candlelight, it was difficult to discern their ages and even Elrohir's less slender build was obscured, with both twins huddled against him.

He looked at the trio a little wistfully, feeling somewhat left out yet appreciative of the wondrously comely picture they presented. He sighed inwardly, thinking how out of place he looked amidst them, his fair hair and sapphire gaze a striking contrast to their sable tresses and grey eyes.

He was on the verge of leaving when he suddenly heard his name mentioned. Paying more attention to what Elrohir was saying, he realized with a start that the Elf-knight was recounting the Quest of the Ring to the younglings.

He gazed at his spouse with avid longing, swallowing the sudden lump that formed in his throat. Elrohir was weaving a story of enthralling potency, placing more than due emphasis on the woodland prince's role in the quest, evincing with every worshipful turn of phrase and admiring allusion the archer's heroism in a perilous journey he need not have undertaken. That his narrative had a perceptible effect on the twins was apparent in their shining eyes, their awed oohs and aahs.

The archer swallowed again, moved by his spouse's so stirring devotion to him that he would extol his long ago wartime graces to their nephews to blunt their evasive reaction in the wake of their dressing down at his hands. He gazed at Elrohir with blazing love and unabashed worship. So intense was his regard that Elrohir lifted his twilight eyes and met the archer's ocean-hued gaze.

Elrohir ceased to speak as he beheld his _bereth_. Did Legolas realize how beautiful he looked standing in the doorway? A shining figure crowned with gold and mithril, his immaculate tunic and light breeches and shoes giving him an ethereal comeliness that surely matched the otherworldly radiance of the Valar themselves. Nay, his prince was ever unaware of his incomparable allure, his breath-stealing perfection. It was this innocence of his bewitching beauty, this unaffected disregard for the effects his appearance had on others that rendered him even more desirable to the warrior. The argent eyes glistened with a smiting combination of searing affection and tender lust that made the prince catch his breath upon marking it.

The brethren smiled in tandem at this silent appraisal by their darkling uncle of their golden one. And their smiles broadened at the answering look of sheer, abiding adoration in the archer's eyes as he returned the warrior's regard. Their hearts swelled, as always greatly fortified by such unrelenting love between two so dear to them. In their uncles' adamant union they found as much security and contentment as they did in their own parents' solid marriage.

They leaped to their feet and ran to Legolas, flinging themselves into his warm, welcoming arms. No words were spoken; forgiveness was asked and given in their fervid exchange of hugs. And then they led the archer to the couch that he might sit by his spouse. Legolas' heart lightened in relief and belonging as Elendir tucked himself into his side while Elros settled himself within Elrohir's encircling arm.

"Uncle Las, tell us about what happened after Merry and Pippin were taken by the orcs," Elros urged.

"Uncle Rohir says you and Uncle Estel and Uncle Gimli gave chase all the way to Rohan!" Elendir said elatedly. "That was surely a splendid feat."

"More than a feat, _pin nith_"—young ones—Elrohir softly amended. "'Tis the stuff of legend. Your uncle is renowned throughout the Reunited Kingdom for his part in the quest." He smiled meaningfully at Legolas, eyes auguring even more delights in the deeps of the night.

Skin simmering with Elrohir's unspoken pledge, Legolas held Elendir closer even as he snuggled fast against his mate. "Yet renown is as nothing beside the esteem of kith and kin," he quietly declared.

But he took up the story nonetheless and they stayed thus until late, the blessing of each other's company as pleasurable as the wonders of the unfolding tale. And for the prince, the promise of unparalleled bliss from a full night's loving in the arms of his beloved Elf-knight.

_To be continued_…


	127. Double Trouble 5

_**Double Trouble**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V  
The Grey Havens, Lindon  
Nimeithel looked up at the stars from the balcony outside the guest chamber she shared with Elladan. The _elenath_ seemed much more brilliant out here by the ocean. And the air was bracing in its salty freshness. She no longer wondered about Legolas' sea-longing.

It had awakened in her as well though not so strong as to overcome her love for Middle-earth. She did not wish to forsake these lands just yet and certainly would not enjoin her husband to do so in the near future. But when the time came, she would not be so reluctant either.

Aman beckoned and, eventually, she would heed its call.

She smiled as two strong arms snaked around her and pulled her against her spouse's powerful frame. She half-turned her face, pressing her cheek against Elladan's shoulder.

"Happy, _melethril_?"—lover—he murmured against her fragrant hair.

"Very," she softly replied. "Though I miss our sons."

"As do I," he admitted. "But I do not regret this reprieve." He leaned down and stole a kiss from her. "I sorely missed having you to myself."

Nimeithel looked back at him and beamed tenderly. "We still have a few days, _Eledhiren_"—my Elvenlord—she pointed out suggestively.

Blue grey eyes glittered darkly. "And nights," he said huskily. "Come, wife, let us make good use of them. Though, I suggest you keep your pretty hands to yourself for now," he added rakishly. "Grandfather and Círdan could use at least one decent night's sleep before we depart."

Nimeithel laughed as he insistently pulled her back into their room.

oOoOoOo

The Last Homely House, Imladris  
Elendir and Elros strove to behave themselves after so traumatic a scolding. For the longest while, there were no irate Elves complaining about being doused, tripped or hoodwinked by the twins providing their uncles with a welcome respite. Nor were the healing chambers graced with their presence for a time much to the healers' collective relief.

Until they poured a harmless but long-lasting dye into the hobbits' baths that gave rise to the phrase "little green men."

And personalized the ancient prank of a bucket of liquid atop a door by substituting rich cream for insipid water, thereby leaving poor Ailios fit to be churned.

And mixed a copious amount of salt into the batter for a cake Iorwen served to a rather pompous Elf-messenger from Greenwood.

And had half the barracks of Imladris up in arms over their watered down, honeyed up ale.

And locked the usually forbearing Lindir in the supplies pantry with the arrogant advisor, Merenwë, whom the steward utterly detested, which almost resulted in another case of kinslaying had Legolas not heard their scuffling within the confined space.

And dared to braid and beribbon Gimli's beard while he dozed on the lounging chair in the garden porch.

"It did not last, did it," Elrohir wryly remarked to his mate.

"It was too much to hope for," Legolas agreed.

From the wide window of the study, they watched with equal parts amusement and resignation the spectacle of their nephews scrambling up a tree in the garden like a pair of cats with a snarling cur snapping at their tails. Down below, an axe-bearing Dwarf, strips of bright colored silk still entangled in his not quite unraveled beard, sat to vengefully wait them out. What he planned to do once they clambered down, neither Elf-uncle knew. But it didn't bode well for the youngsters' tender rumps if Gimli's constant flexing of his right hand was any indication of what he had in mind for them.

Legolas sighed. A Dwarf with a festively garnished beard was no lovely sight; he could not blame Gimli for wanting to give the twins a hearty spanking. Well, Elladan and Nimeithel would soon be home. Their arrival would not by any means bring their sons' antics to a halt but, at least, he and Elrohir would not have to take the brunt of their victims' charges any longer.

Not to mention bear with the constant interruptions that had so plagued their private time together. Much heartened by that prospect, he reached down and squeezed the Elf-knight's firm backside, prompting his spouse to yelp in acute startlement.

oOoOoOo

"They are here!" Elendir cried out. He raced out followed by his brother as the graceful steeds cantered into the courtyard of the Last Homely House.

A moment later the brethren were nestled in the loving embraces of their well-rested parents. Celeborn, however, did not look as refreshed. Elrohir eyed his grandsire wonderingly as he hugged him in welcome.

"Are you well, my lord?" he inquired solicitously.

Celeborn snorted. "As well as is possible under the circumstances." He raised a jaundiced eyebrow at Elladan. "Your brother is astonishingly vocal in bed-play. I warrant the noise would be enough to wake up all the dead in Arda! Thank Eru that Círdan agreed to transfer me to the other side of his house. Though 'twas too late to prevent him from recalling my own youthful folly and remarking on it without cease."

While Elrohir stared at the Elvenlord in puzzlement, Elladan flushed a deep scarlet. But Nimeithel giggled merrily much to her law-brother and sons' surprise. Legolas grinned and upon bestowing a welcoming kiss on her cheek, said: "I take it you learned your lesson well, _muinthel_?"—sister?

His sister smiled mischievously. "Too well it would seem, judging from Círdan's relief when we left," she laughed. "Thank you, _t__ôr iaur_."— older brother.

As they walked into the house, Elrohir looked questioningly at the prince. "What did she thank you for?" he murmured.

Legolas chuckled. "Later, _meleth_. 'Tis not a matter fit for Elflings' ears," he said, indicating their nephews. "As well as innocent hobbits," he added as Merry and Pippin greeted the newly arrived Elves.

Hardly had Elladan and Nimeithel settled down when they were besieged by a host of complainants starting with one gruff Dwarf and two indignant and startlingly verdant Halflings. Iorwen, Ailios and Merenwë soon weighed in with their grievances and Lindir had to bite his lip to keep from airing his so precipitately.

"And that is just the household," Elrohir informed his brother. "I believe the warriors have a thing or two to say about the _gwenyn_ as well."

Elladan rolled his eyes. "You and Legolas were supposed to keep watch over them," he reminded the other.

Elrohir snorted. "When Legolas and I grow eyes on the back of our heads, come back then and reprove us for negligence." At his brother's pained grimace, he pointed out, "At least you found some rest this summer. I cannot say the same for the rest of us!"

They paused in their conversation when the twins suddenly ran up to Elladan and hugged him around the waist anxiously. The older pair stared down at the younger in perplexity then looked up at the others.

Legolas was striving mightily not to laugh while Nimeithel looked torn between sympathy and satisfaction. Celeborn, however, had trained upon his great-grandsons a most fearsome stare.

"Sire?" Elladan looked at him curiously.

"I believe I would like to spend some time with your younglings, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—Celeborn said. "This autumn and winter should do nicely."

Elladan blinked. "Exactly what do you mean, Grandfather?" he said.

Celeborn shrugged. "I have just realized that I have not spent much time with the _pin nith_. I would like to rectify this oversight and take them under my wing for two seasons. And off your hands."

The brethren stared at him in amazement. Why would anyone want to take charge of Elladan's twin gales?

"You are brave, sire," Elrohir commented.

"Nay, I am only being practical," Celeborn rejoined. "I would rather have your brother well-rested in Imladris than ever ask him to join me again in Mithlond or anywhere else. Particularly if we must live in the same house! I refuse to endure any more comments as I had to take from Círdan for two whole months." When Elrohir opened his mouth to ask him for more clarification, he quickly preempted his younger grandson. "Ai, _gwanneth_, ask your Legolas for my reasons. He obviously knows enough to enlighten you. Well, Elladan, will you accept my offer or not?"

Elladan gaped at him then looked down at his quavering sons. He could understand their nervousness. Celeborn was a loving Elf but could be stern when he needed to be. And when he was, he was positively intimidating. To young Elves who had not had the opportunity to keep frequent company with him, that translated into terrifying.

He glanced at Elrohir. Noted the heated look he exchanged with Legolas. He caught his twin's eye and winked at him. Elrond's sons smiled at each other.

Elladan's sons did not. "_Adar!!!_"

oOoOoOo

Silver light peeked through the veiled windows as Ithil slowly made her ascent into the late evening sky. But to Legolas, her soft glow was no match for the luminosity of his moonlit knight. He let out a shuddery breath as Elrohir delved deeply into him, every thrust driving him ever closer to utmost rapture.

In the throes of passion, Elrohir was ever more beautiful to behold. That only he had the privilege and the right to see the warrior thusly was a gift the woodland prince never took for granted. He gazed as if entranced at his mate as the other moved with exquisite mastery above him, owning him as no other had or ever would. Silvery eyes limned in lust, sinuous lips plundering fair flesh, creamy skin glistening with the faintest sheen of moisture, he repeatedly speared his golden spouse to the silken core of his being.

He caught Legolas' wrists, guided them above his head and pinned them there with one powerful hand. With the other, he reached between them and began to stroke the turgid column that prodded his tight belly. He had earlier ravaged the luscious flesh, supped of the opulent cream of his mate's resulting pleasure, then caressed him to renewed arousal. Now he fondled his writhing prince, teased the roseate buds on his chest, pillaged his searching mouth. Yet he denied him the freedom to move as he pleased, the maddening constraint heightening the archer's bliss.

Legolas tried to hold back a moan; failed as ardent lips enclosed an aching nipple and drew upon it until he cried out. He tried to free his hands but Elrohir held them fast. And all the while, he was steadily stroked and headily breached until he was raggedly sobbing in excruciating delight. He attempted to speak but found he could no longer give coherent voice to his longing.

_Finish it, Aduial! I beg of you!_

Elrohir's eyes gleamed ever darker at this sign of his beloved's imminent undoing. Their mutual pleasure mingled and flowed and washed over them with storm-force. It was too much for the archer.

Shaking helplessly, Legolas keened as completion overtook him, tears streaming down his cheeks at the indescribable rapture of his release. His wrists were abruptly freed and he desperately clung to Elrohir as the warrior buried himself to the hilt and spent himself explosively within his golden spouse. One word alone burst from Elrohir's lips. One lone name.

He shuddered and nearly collapsed onto his mate. Still trembling, Legolas held him fast, refusing to let him sever the connection between them either of body or spirit. He cupped his Elf-knight's face and kissed him fervently, ever hungry for his love, for his loving. Elrohir fed his hunger, giving of himself, of his heart and spirit, to sate his prince's still scarcely abated need. An always welcome need.

He was about to utter an endearment when something crashed against their door. No, make that two things. Elflings on the cusp of adolescence to be precise.

Legolas stared in consternation at the door, expecting it to burst wide open and reveal them as bare as the day they were born and in this most indecent of poses. But though the insistent pounding on the other side continued, the door did not yield.

"I bolted it," Elrohir whispered with a grin.

"I should have remembered that," Legolas softly said with a smile.

"Elros! Elendir! To bed, both of you!"

A doleful groan was followed by a dolorous reply. "Aye, Grandfather."

The Elven prince and the Elf-knight listened with amusement as two pairs of feet shuffled away from the door. They burst out laughing at the thought of their incorrigible nephews so summarily tamed by their silver-crowned forefather.

"How long will this last?" Legolas purred, nibbling at Elrohir's throat.

Elrohir groaned at the tantalizing nips. "Until they realize that Grandfather is a tender-heart," he chuckled breathily. "The moment they shed tears, he will be revealed and our peace will be at an end."

"Mayhap they won't find out until spring," Legolas murmured, pressing upwards to press their groins together.

"Mayhap." Elrohir's argent gaze evolved into molten mithril. "So eager anon, Calenlass?"

"What do you think?" the archer crooned. And he drew the warrior once more into his body's deep embrace.

Glossary:  
elenath – starry host  
Ithil – the moon  
Aduial – Twilight  
meleth – love  
Calenlass – Greenleaf  
gwenyn – twins  
gwanneth – younger twin

The End

**Part 28:** At The End Of The Day – Samwise Gamgee learns that wishes can come true even for an old hobbit. Rating: T


	128. Interlude: At the End of the Day

**Summary:** Samwise Gamgee learns that wishes can come true even for an old hobbit.

**Pairings:** Elrohir/Legolas, Elladan/OFC (Nimeithel)

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Interlude: At the End of the Day**  
by _Eressë_

Hobbiton, The Shire, July, S.R. 1482 (F.A. 62)  
Samwise Gamgee laid a delicate posy of freshly cut flowers upon his dear wife's grave. He had visited his Rosie thrice weekly at the very least since she passed away on Mid-year's Day. It was a visit he looked forward to and dreaded at the same time. He was very lonely.

All his children were grown and married, most raising families of their own. None lived with him at Bag End though all knew he would eventually leave it to his eldest son, Frodo Gardner. It was fitting somehow that Bag End would know a master named Frodo once more even if his last name wasn't Baggins.

Sam didn't mind living alone. Not really. His children and grandchildren visited him nearly every day and he had very friendly neighbors, rather nosy if you asked him. No, he didn't mind living alone. Only problem was, he was getting on.

It was no longer a simple matter to trot over and visit any of his many friends or make the short trek to The Green Dragon over at Bywater for his customary half-pint of beer. And he could no longer work in his garden as much as he used to. Aching joints and stiff muscles had taken their toll on the doughty gardener and seven-times mayor of the Shire.

He sighed repeatedly as he slowly made his way home. Life had been good to him, he had to admit. Very good indeed. But he could not dispel the feeling that there was something missing…

As he entered Bag End, he realized something was amiss. Had he left all these lamps burning? No, of course not. Then who—? A sudden rustle behind startled him and he whirled as fast as his recalcitrant legs allowed him.

"Who – who's there?" he demanded with just a hint of a quaver in his voice.

A tall, slender figure stepped out of the shadows into the light. Pale golden hair, bright sapphire eyes, the green and brown garb of an Elf of Greenwood – all these impressions hit him in one breathless instant.

"Hello, Sam," the Elf said with a smile.

Sam stared at the stately vision before him, pop-eyed and gaping. And then he gasped with understandable shock. "Glory be! Legolas!"

"Aye, Sam," the woodland prince grinned. "And it's good to see you, too."

The hobbit blushed deeply at the gentle reminder that he had not properly greeted his old friend. And then embarrassment gave way to delight and he flung his arms around the archer's waist in fervent welcome. Chuckling, Legolas hugged him back.

"Legolas!" he said again. "I can't believe it's you! It's been – what? – forty years since I last saw you when you bound yourself to Elrond's son. Elrohir, am I right?"

"'Tis good of you to remember me, Master Samwise," a deep voice said.

Sam glanced back in time to see two men of such similar features and form that, after he realized who they were, it took him a while to figure out which was which.

"Bless me, it's Lord Elrohir!" the hobbit cried. "And Lord Elladan!"

He shuffled towards them, a big smile creasing his face. Each twin drew him into a warm, affectionate embrace.

"But what are you all doing here?" Sam asked curiously. "It isn't exactly a day's walk from Rivendell to Hobbiton."

"We came to visit you, my old friend," Legolas said gently. "We heard of Mistress Rose's passing and thought to give you comfort and company."

The hobbit's smile saddened a little. "It is a tad too quiet around here without my Rosie," he admitted.

A sweet, dulcet voice called out from the kitchen. "Elladan? Has your friend come back?"

"Aye, _mellind_"—dear heart—"he is here," Elladan replied.

Sam stared as a beauteous female emerged from his kitchen. His mouth dropped with an almost audible thunk as she neared him. For a moment, he thought it was Queen Arwen herself for the Elf lady was dark-haired and carried herself with regal grace. And then he saw it was not the twins' sister. But she did look awfully familiar.

Elladan led her forward, his blue-grey eyes alight with pride. "Do you remember my wife, Sam?" he said. "I believe you met in Eryn Gael."

Sam started then gasped. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "I thought I'd seen her before." And then he blushed slightly at his graceless reply.

Nimeithel smiled warmly at him before addressing her husband. "Aye, we met then. But no one introduced us properly. 'Tis no wonder Master Samwise did not recall me."

"Then we were all remiss," Elladan said ruefully. "I will plead distraction what with the excitement of my brother's binding. But let me now make amends for such a deplorable oversight." He beamed at the still wide-eyed hobbit. "Sam, this is Nimeithel, princess of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen. _Meleth nîn_"—my love—"this is the legendary Samwise Gamgee without whose valor the Quest of the Ring would have been in vain."

Sam's face turned beet-red at the Elvenlord's praise. It turned an even brighter crimson when Nimeithel smiled admiringly at him and said, "I am honored to meet you once more, Master Samwise. All Middle-earth owes you a great debt."

"I-I—" Sam stuttered. "Think nothing of it!" he finally managed to say. He realized he was staring slack-jawed at the Elven princess and hastily shut his mouth. And then he did a double take. "Princess? Of Eryn Lasgalen?" he repeated. He looked at Legolas. "She wouldn't happen to be a relation of yours, would she?"

The prince chuckled and replied, "She's my younger sister, Sam."

The hobbit performed another double take. "Your sister? And she married _his_ brother?" he queried, glancing at Elrohir who nodded with amusement. "Well, I'm staggered," Sam remarked. "You do like to keep things in the family, don't you?"

The Elves laughed at his unwitting jest. Seeing the humor of the situation, Sam joined in as well. Then he seemed to recollect something and he slapped his forehead in dismay.

"Noodles!" he cried. "Where are my manners? Here, what would you like? Tea? Some cake? I've got fresh bread and cheese in the cupboard and—"

"Do not panic, Sam," Legolas laughed. "We did not come here to have you serve us."

"Aye, we would serve you instead," Elrohir added. He glanced at his brother.

With a flourish, Elladan produced two bottles of wine and a small wooden keg, which he placed on a table. Sam read the words painted on the keg and disbelievingly exclaimed, "You passed by The Golden Perch at Stock!"

"'Tis still the best beer in the Eastfarthing, I trust?" Elladan asked.

"Yes, it is," Sam replied with a wide grin. "Some things never change, thank goodness!"

The Elves settled him in his armchair, insisting on getting him comfortable first. Nimeithel, who had returned to the kitchen, soon came back bearing a large tray laden with all sorts of delicacies. Crusty elven bread, golden Dwarf-churned cheese, beautifully cured Bree ham and an array of luscious sweets courtesy of Rivendell's redoubtable housekeeper, Iorwen. Sam gaped anew at first sight of the mouthwatering spread.

For a while, they ate and drank and exchanged news. The woodland prince and Imladrin lords soon had Sam alternately in stitches or shock as they recounted their various adventures since they had all last been together in Ithilien. The hobbit was rendered momentarily speechless when told of Elladan's twin sons.

"You have twins?" he echoed, looking from the proud father to the latter's own twin brother. "And are they anything like the two of you?"

"Worse," Elrohir quipped impishly. "'Tis a wonder Rivendell is still standing though I would not be surprised were it to fall apart tomorrow."

Elladan glowered at him with such indignation that Sam burst out laughing once more.

"It's truly wonderful to see you again," he chortled, wiping tears from his eyes. "I haven't laughed so much in ages and that's saying a lot for a hobbit if you get my meaning."

Legolas leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming thoughtfully. "And what do you plan to do now, Sam?" he asked.

The hobbit considered the query seriously. "I honestly don't know," he said. "I'm too old to go gallivanting around like I used to and most of my friends are even creakier at the joints than I am. But it does get deadly dull at times. I can't even tend to my garden properly," he added, looking somewhat mournfully out the window at the now less than pristine garden beyond. He signed, "I guess all I can do is sit back and wait for my own time to come."

Elrohir placed a warm comforting hand on his. "If you could have one wish, what would it be?" he softly asked.

"One wish?" The little gardener screwed up his face in thought. "Well, most of my wishes came true," he said. "I had the dearest wife anyone could wish for, we were blessed with a whole packet of wonderful children and the Shire is all safe and sound as I'd hoped. Truly, I have everything I could possibly want. Except…" he hesitated.

"Except?" Legolas prompted.

Sam blushed. "If I could have just one wish, I suppose it would be to see Frodo and Mr. Bilbo again," he said. "There hasn't been a day since they left that I haven't missed them." He nodded decisively. "If I could have one wish that's what it would be."

The Elves glanced at each other with knowing smiles. Legolas took the hobbit's other hand in his.

"Dear Sam, how would you like to have your wish come true?" he asked.

Sam stared at him perplexed. "Very much, thank you," he answered honestly. "Though how that could happen is beyond me."

The Elven prince's smile broadened. "My father is passing over sea this autumn with many of our people. He would be very happy to have you take ship with him."

Sam was stupefied. "Take ship with him?" he echoed, unsure he'd heard right. His hearing was not what it used to be after all.

"Aye, Sam," Elrohir confirmed the invitation. "The King sails for Valinor before September's end. He would welcome the company of the last of the Ring-bearers."

For a moment, Samwise Gamgee could only stare at them incredulously. Then he jumped to his feet, aches and stiff joints forgotten as strength surged through his limbs in a burst of energy.

"Me! Go to Valinor!" he cried. "And I shall see Frodo and Mr. Bilbo again! Bless you all!"

Elladan grinned. "Then we may take that as a 'yes'?" he queried.

Sam nodded vigorously, eyes shining with joy. "Wishes do come true, don't they?" he said happily.

"For valiant little gardeners, aye, it seems they do," Legolas smiled.

Sam grinned back. And then he suddenly frowned and fidgeted a bit. "But do they take in old folk like me in Valinor?" he asked anxiously.

"Bilbo was not that young when he took ship with our father," Elrohir pointed out.

"And Gandalf is not exactly spry," Elladan added wryly.

"By golly, you're right." Sam brightened. "He's a sight older than any of us."

"Ancient," Nimeithel giggled.

"Well, I don't know about that," Sam admitted. "He never did tell us his age." He winced a bit as a creaky joint made itself felt. Legolas promptly plucked him from the floor and tucked him back into the comfort of his armchair. Sam wiggled his leg gingerly.

"Do you think they – the folks in Valinor – do you think they can do anything about my aches and pains?" he asked wistfully. "It would be a pity not to be able to get around just because of weak knees."

"Oh, I think they will be able to remedy that, Sam," Legolas said.

"As well as your wrinkles," Elladan added.

"Not to mention your grey hair," Elrohir finished.

"What?" Sam was patently dubious. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You shall, my friend," Legolas chuckled. "You shall."

"Which? Seeing or believing?"

"Both."

oOoOoOo

The Elves remained with him till the end of the month. It was a source of wonder to the denizens of Hobbiton to see such fair folk in their midst. Many surreptitiously regarded them as they moved around the Shire with Sam, the gaffers and gammers no less curious than the hobbit lads and lasses. From the fair archer to the comely twin lords to the lovely Elf lady, they were a sight to behold indeed.

The Shire folk were no less curious when the Elves made ready to depart Bag End that end of July. Their elven steeds' surpassing magnificence only added to the mystery and allure of Sam's enchanting guests.

Sam watched lightheartedly as Elladan lifted his wife onto one of the majestic horses. They were leaving and he would be alone once more but the promise of September's journey outweighed any melancholy he might have felt at the present parting. He grinned as Elrohir brushed Legolas' hand in passing before he vaulted gracefully onto his steed.

The Elf-prince and Elvenlord had not been shy around him though before the rest of Hobbiton they'd been discretion personified. He'd gotten quite used to seeing them together, arm in arm, gold and sable heads oft close together as they spoke softly and intimately to each other. What they did behind the closed door of their room he did not try to imagine. That was a bit too much to ask of any hobbit. But he did not doubt it was much the same as what Elladan shared with his Greenwood princess.

Legolas noticed his indulgent grin. The archer's eyes twinkled merrily.

"You're very happy with him, Legolas," Sam observed, nodding in Elrohir's direction.

The prince glanced fondly at the twin then looked back at his friend and smiled. "Much more than I ever thought possible, Sam," he replied.

"I'm glad for you," the little gardener said. "We hobbits thought you looked rather lonely during the Quest."

"Did you now?"

"Oh, yes," Sam nodded emphatically. "You smiled so rarely that we started counting the number of times that you did!"

Legolas chuckled. "Until autumn then, dear Sam. Look for us in the woods of the Shire." He mounted his horse and moved to join the others.

"Until then, dear friends!" Sam responded. "Take care and don't go looking for trouble!" he called as they rode down New Row. "We get enough of that from Merry and Pippin!"

Silvery laughter floated back to him. Ah, yes, Sam decided happily. Life had indeed been good to him.

oOoOoOo

On September 22, S.R. 1482, Master Samwise Gamgee rode out from Bag End. He came to the Tower Hills and was last seen by his daughter, Elanor, to whom he gave the Red Book afterwards kept by the Fairbarns.(1) Among them, the tradition was handed down from Elanor that Samwise passed the Towers, and went to the Grey Havens, and passed over sea, last of the Ring-bearers.(2)

Glossary:  
S.R. - Shire Reckoning

(1) Elanor Gamgee married Fastred Fairbarn.

(2) Taken from LotR: _The Return of the King_, Appendix B: The Tale of the Years.

The End

**Part 29:** In His Father's Image. As Elladan's twins approach their coming-of-age, history threatens to repeat itself and further afflict an already burdened heart. Rating: M


	129. In His Father's Image 1

**Summary:** As Elladan's twins approach their coming-of-age, history threatens to repeat itself and further afflict an already burdened heart.

**Pairings:** Lindir/OMC, Elrohir/Legolas

**Disclaimer: **The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** Virtually nothing is known about Lindir except that he uttered exactly four lines in FotR and that, due to the meaning of his name, he may have been a minstrel. In the earlier parts of the series, I depicted him as the housemaster of the Last Homely House and occasional tutor to the Twins. But in this story, he is the chief steward of their estate, having taken over from Erestor who passed West with Glorfindel and Elrond at the end of the Third Age.

_**In His Father's Image**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I  
Imladris, _lairë_ F.A. 72  
Ordinarily, any transgression by the twins was duly reported to their parents or uncles and the resulting chastisement left in their more than capable hands. But this morning, Lindir chose to approach both directly and take them to task. He caught them as they headed for sword practice, hailing them before they stepped out of the house.

"Good morn, Lindir," Elros cheerfully bade him. Elendir seconded the greeting.

"Not so good a morn for Master Aldrion," Lindir pointedly said, ignoring their salutations. "What possessed you to stuff his beddings last night with all manner of trash?"

Both had enough grace to flush slightly at being found out so soon. But neither could repress the smug grins that curled their mouths.

"'Twas naught but dried leaves, Lindir," Elendir said.

"'Tis not as if we put anything harmful into the beddings," Elros added.

"Nor is this something _Ada_ and Uncles Las and Rohir did not themselves do," Elendir continued.

"And long after reaching their majorities at that," Elros finished.

Lindir sighed and turned a stern countenance on them.

"But even at their worst, they took care not to inflict their jests on those unable to withstand them," he countered. "The Dale Master is old and crippled and half-blind. Yet for all his great age and difficulties, he tends to his duties well and is beloved of his people. It is the height of insolence for you to treat him so basely," he reproved acidly. "Would you think it so amusing were someone to demean your sire in that same manner and he an Elf of noble, unblemished birth?"

The brethren stared at him in some surprise. It was rare for anyone other than their parents or Elrohir or Legolas to chasten them. Certainly they had seldom had occasion to bear the brunt of Lindir's ire. Rivendell's chief steward was, for the most part, sweet tempered and almost patient beyond belief.

"But Lindir—" Elendir began to protest.

But Elros interrupted him and said: "Aye, Lindir. 'Twas disrespectful of us. We will apologize to Master Aldrion soonest."

"We will?" Elendir blurted out in surprise.

"Aye, we will," Elros said. "Lindir is right, _gwanunig nîn_. We were imprudent in this instance and deserve to be chastised."

Elendir was nonplussed at first but a moment later, he nodded and acceded to his brother's rightness. "We will apologize to Master Aldrion," he agreed.

Lindir did not know whether to be pleased or puzzled. For the brethren to admit their fault so swiftly was astonishing. For that matter, for Elros to capitulate so easily – the younger twin had always been the more recalcitrant of the two.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

To his bemusement, Elros suddenly looked discomfited while Elendir grinned in an oddly knowing way.

"Let us go," Elros said abruptly and hurried towards the guest wing. Elendir shook his head in amusement and followed him.

Lindir watched them go, his eyes keen on one of them in particular. He did not move from his position until the twins vanished from sight. But his intent regard had not gone unnoticed.

Elladan glanced at Elrohir and said: "Did you mark the look in his eyes?"

Elrohir nodded then gazed at his brother. "What of it?"

The twin lords of Imladris had been on their way out to the drill yard as well to assess the newest batch of warriors to be trained on the grounds of the Last Homely House. Even in these times of relative peace, the Elves had not let down their guard. There were still constantly spawning orcs to repel, the occasional rise of bands of brigands to deal with and the warring nations of the eastern lands to beware of. Harad may have at last settled her differences with the Reunited Kingdom but the tribes of Rhûn were still divided on this matter and, ever and anon, Easterling parties sought to raid the borders as of yore. Admittedly, such skirmishes were now rare but the Elves were not about to discard their duties to Middle-earth so easily. Not even in their waning days in the Hinter Lands.

Elladan said: "I confess I did not believe Merenwë when he told me of it."

Elrohir snorted. "How thoughtful of him to carry the tale to you," he said acerbically.

Elladan frowned. "He spoke the truth nonetheless. I cannot deny it for I know that look. But I had not thought I would see it trained upon my own son and by our steward no less. In truth, it troubles me."

"Why?"

The older twin glanced at the younger. "You are being deliberately obtuse, _gwanneth_"—younger twin—he remarked. "You are not blind or witless. You know of what I speak."

Elrohir's spear-gaze alighted with unnerving steeliness on his brother. Any other would have been abashed. As it was Elladan was simply somewhat taken aback.

"You recognize Lindir's yearning because he looks upon Elros as I once regarded Legolas long before he knew of my love," he stated baldly. When Elladan stared at him, wondering at his demeanor, he added, "You disapprove."

"Elros is still ten years from his majority," Elladan pointed out. "Of course, I disapprove."

"Of his attraction or the timing of it?"

"Both. 'Tis not meet, Elrohir. It disturbs me that of all the Elves in Arda he should look just so upon my child."

Elrohir's mouth tightened. "It troubles you that he harbors what you deem an unseemly interest in Elros. In much the same manner that I once desired, quite disturbingly, our closest friend."

Elladan caught his breath at the sharpness of his brother's tone. "Elrohir, I am not chastening you belatedly for that matter!" he softly exclaimed.

"Nor am I so foolish to think you are, _muindor_"—brother—the other rejoined.

"Then why this – this rancor?" Elladan said bewilderedly. "Is it wrong for a father to desire to protect his children? I am only perturbed by the impropriety of his conduct and would ask him to turn his attention elsewhere!"

Elrohir said: "You speak of Lindir's feelings with cavalier regard. As if 'tis a simple matter to dismiss another's feelings because they are troublesome to you." He faced Elladan squarely. "Had Legolas thought as you, think you I would be here now?"

Elladan stared at his brother in speechlessness, reminded of a sudden of the confluence of events that had spared him and his twin that most wrenching of partings.

"Forgive me, Elrohir," he said at length. "In your present bliss, I had forgotten what you endured ere you won it." He peered in comprehension at his brother. "You sympathize with him."

"Yet I would turn against him were he to hurt Elros," Elrohir said. "But I do not believe that he will. I think he would sooner suffer that hurt than ever let it touch the one he cares for." He hesitated. "As he always has."

Elladan grew even more confused. "As he always has?" he repeated. "You speak in riddles. What do you know that I do not?"

"'Tis not right for me to reveal another's secrets," Elrohir said. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I think you had best talk to Lindir about this. Then will you understand more fully why I do not fear his intent."

Elladan peered at him curiously then nodded.

oOoOoOo

It was some days later before the suggested talk came about. Elladan awaited Lindir in the study, still puzzled by his brother's cryptic allusions. The door opened and the steward entered. Elladan regarded him thoughtfully.

His father's departure for Aman at the end of the last age had heralded the leave-taking of Middle-earth by many of Rivendell's Noldorin residents, Glorfindel amongst them. Naturally, Erestor had gone with his spouse. That had necessitated many changes in rank amongst the remaining denizens of the Last Homely House and the vale at large. Glorfindel's second-in-command, Daurin, had become captain of the Imladrin forces and his binding-mate, Enedrion, was now his lieutenant. Iorwen had taken over as housekeeper and her husband, Ailios, as chief counsellor. And Lindir had been named chief steward.

The Elf had more than proven his worthiness of the position. Though better known outside of Rivendell for his musical genius, Lindir had been a most able housemaster in Elrond's day, not to mention a sage teacher to the many Elflings who had once graced the valley and, when the need arose, a competent warrior as well.

Like Erestor, he was of mixed heritage, his mother a Noldo from Eregion and his father a Sinda of Silvan ancestry from ancient Doriath. He was dark-haired as was the wont for the Noldor, his tresses of a rich, deep brown that gleamed with bronzed light when kissed by the sun's golden rays. His eyes, however, where unusual amongst the Noldor or even the Sindar. They were a light hazel, a trait attributed to his Wood-elven forebears. In all, there was no denying the steward's striking comeliness.

Elladan gestured to him to take a seat before the elegant desk that had been Elrond's in days gone by. He himself sat on one edge of it, as ill at ease in the lordly high-backed chair behind it as Elrohir.

"I summoned you because a matter of import has come to my attention," he said tentatively.

"What matter is this, my lord?" Lindir inquired formally.

"It has to do with my sons tutelage under you," the Elf-lord continued. "I wonder if 'tis wise for them to continue thusly."

Save for the slight darkening of his eyes, Lindir did not evince any of the sense of offense he surely must have felt. "You doubt my abilities?" he merely inquired cautiously,

Elladan shook his head. "Nay, never that. No one can fault you for that, not even Merenwë for all his conceit." He paused. "But I do wonder about your feelings regarding Elros." At the raised eyebrows of the steward, the Elvenlord continued. "I have seen how you regard him, Lindir. You love him."

Lindir was speechless for a moment. "I did not think I had been so open about my feelings," he murmured.

"You were not until this summer."

"And that distresses you. Forgive me, my lord, it shall not happen again."

"Concealing your feelings is not the same as ridding yourself of them. You would continue to love him though you hide it."

The steward suddenly understood Elladan's concern. "You do not trust me with him," he said with some shock. "You think I would take advantage of my position and seduce him."

Elladan stirred uncomfortably at the blunt statement. "Elros is young and still easily persuaded," he softly pointed out. "You have much influence over him, Lindir. I would remind you of your charge."

Lindir gazed at his lord. Elladan was startled by the pain that flickered in the eyes of the other Elf. He was silent for a long while. Finally, he seemed to decide something. He looked straight at Elladan, his gaze unwavering.

"Your father entrusted you to my care even if he knew of _my_ feelings," he very quietly stated.

Elladan gaped at him in shock. "Your feelings?" he repeated incredulously.

"Aye."

The Elvenlord was thoroughly disconcerted by his discovery. "You never said anything," he finally managed. "Never gave me reason to think you felt something for me."

"'Twas not my place to do so," Lindir said. "You were my lord's son, I a mere housemaster and one to whose care you had been entrusted." He shook his head. "It would not have been meet for me to use that to my advantage."

Elladan fell silent for a space. "I am sorry, Lindir," he said at length. "Had I known I might have..." He trailed off somewhat awkwardly.

"Taken me to your bed?" A small humorless smile graced the steward's handsome features. "Nay, my lord, I would not have accepted such an invitation had it been given. I could not bear the knowledge of your body but not your heart. 'Tis not my way." He sighed. "'Tis easy to take to bed those from whom you expect nothing more than physical release. But to love someone and know you are but one in a multitude of lovers... I could not endure that."

Elladan reddened a little. His days of promiscuous adventuring were long past now that he had his Nimeithel but the memories sometimes came back to haunt him as they did now in the face of Lindir's confession. He could only imagine the heartbreak of the steward, watching from afar as the one he loved freely shared his body with others whilst he himself was forbidden the pleasure because of honor and duty.

"How is it that you did not fade?" he half whispered.

"Because you needed my services," Lindir answered honestly. "In that I found some satisfaction. To know you were safe and happy and contented... 'twas enough to stave off the grief." He regarded the Elf-lord with open affection though it was no longer tinged with the desire he had once held for him. "Elladan," he said addressing him more personally, "if I did not touch you even when I loved you more than life itself why would I do so now with Elros? Not that he would desire someone beneath his station."

Elladan snapped his head up at that. "You are not beneath anyone's station, Lindir," he firmly stated. His eyes softened at the steward's sad smile. He came to a sudden decision. "Nor would I forbid you to approach him once he is of age."

Lindir stared at him in astonishment. "You are generous," he said, touched by Elladan's compassion. "But nothing will come of my feelings. Elros deserves someone closer in age and more learned and noble."

Elladan snorted. "And you are not learned and noble?" he countered. "You who has ably taught my sons these past many years and won their respect and regard? Who has served this family with all honor and faithfulness? And as for age, I do not recall any objections to the vast difference in years between my sister and Estel."

Lindir started then blushed. "Be that as it may, Elros does not return my feelings," he said heavily. "I am no more than a trusted friend and teacher to him."

"How do you know that?"

"He looks at me in much the same way you once did."

Elladan flinched inwardly at the choice of words. He knew Lindir held nothing against him and still cared for him as a friend and liege lord. Nevertheless, it recalled to him his youthful callousness and he found himself hoping his sons would not follow in his footsteps. At least, he hoped Elros would not for the steward's sake.

Lindir had risen with the air of one waiting to be dismissed. Elladan nodded his acquiescence. But just as the steward opened the door, he said: "I will trust you with my son, Lindir. And should he yield it, with his heart as well. More I cannot say."

The Elf gazed back at him in wonder. Then he smiled gently and murmured, "Thank you." With that he left the study.

Elladan sat back in his chair musingly. "You knew?" he said.

Elrohir stepped out from the shallow recess beside the wide bookshelf along the near wall. He looked at his brother sympathetically.

"Not at first," he admitted. "But when I came to love Legolas, I realized I had a kindred spirit in Lindir." He looked out the window by the shelf, memories gentling his fierce mithril eyes. Crossing the garden beyond, bow and quiver and nephews in tow, was his golden spouse. "We both knew what it was to love in vain."

"You never told me," Elladan chided mildly.

"And what would you have done?" Elrohir queried pointedly. "Assuaged his longing with one night in your bed? He said it quite succinctly. He would never have endured your pity any more than I could have borne Legolas'."

Elladan fell silent for a space. After a while, he looked at his brother, love gentling his storm blue eyes as he noted the softened grey eyes that watched his beloved from afar. He rose and snaked an arm around Elrohir's shoulders.

"My good fortune is that I found my reward at last," Elrohir murmured. "Lindir has not."

Elladan sighed. He said with all sincerity, "I pray that my sons will not be as blind and careless as I was and be the source of another's misery."

Elrohir nodded. "A word of caution, _gwaniuar_. Beware Merenwë's motive for apprising you of this matter. I wager he shares Lindir's yearning and only seeks to rid himself of a potential rival."

Elladan's brow creased anew. "Think you he has designs on Elros?"

"It would not surprise me," the Elf-knight replied. "But I would be more wary of his intentions. I doubt he has as many scruples as Lindir does."

A dry smile graced Elladan's fine mouth. "It is ironic, is it not, that to protect my son from one potential lover, I have placed him in the keeping of another."

Elrohir's lips quirked into a humorless grin. "The difference is that one merely seeks to use love for his own ends while the other truly feels it in his heart."

Elladan could not disagree. "More than ever I wish Merenwë left for Valinor with _Adar_. Have you ever wondered why he chose to stay on?"

Elrohir shrugged. "For no commendable reason I am certain," he said. "If only it were permissible to send him away, I would do it at once. He grows ever more tiresome, Elladan."

"I will not gainsay you, _gwanneth_," Elladan replied. "Let us hope that fate will give us a good enough reason to do so."

"And soonest," Elrohir added with a wry chuckle.

Glossary:  
lairë – Quenya for summer  
gwanunig nîn – my twin  
Ada/Adar – Papa/Father  
gwaniuar – older twin

_To be continued_…


	130. In His Father's Image 2

_**In His Father's Image**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II  
Imladris, _tuilë_ F.A. 77  
The arrows struck in lightning succession in an almost impossibly straight line down the trunk of the tree, none embedded more shallowly or deeply than their fellows. Such precision and delicacy elicited a round of praise from Elladan's sons for their woodland uncle's inimitable display of mastery.

"That is splendid, Uncle Legolas," Elendir declared. "If I can come close to even just half of what you can do in archery, I should be blissfully content."

"Aye, no one can match you," Elros agreed, eyes shining with awe.

Legolas smiled and shook his head. "Your father and Elrohir are most capable of matching me, _pin nith_"—young ones—he countered.

"On occasion," Elros said. "But 'tis the exception rather than the rule."

"And they have not bested you since you came into your own," Elendir added. "Uncle Elrohir says none ever will, so peerless is your skill."

Legolas' smile widened, as always pleased with any compliment from his darkling spouse.

"He praises me overmuch," he murmured, coloring slightly to the twins' delight. "Come now, retrieve the arrows that we may continue."

He regarded his nephews proudly as they sprinted to do as they were bid. In their forty-fifth year, they were beautiful as only the Peredhil could be but slighter of build than either Elladan or Elrohir. Still young for their kindred, they were more slender even than Legolas. But the approach of maturity heralded the imminence of well-formed torsos and limbs. And in the last four years, they had undergone another growth spurt. They would be as tall as their sire, of that the prince was certain.

Legolas smiled a little wistfully. They had grown in more than body. He still missed the affectionate diminutives of 'Las' and 'Rohir' that the twins had bestowed on him and Elrohir up to their fortieth year. But in the time since, they had weaned themselves from many childhood habits, slowly preparing themselves for adulthood not only in form but in mind as well.

They were still as capable of mischief as their father and uncles had been at the same age. But they were more tempered now, guided by sage counsel, tender discipline and utter, unconditional love. The opposing sides of their natures had also began to blossom. Thus Elendir, who had tended to be the more obliging and diplomatic of the two was learning to be just a shade more demanding and stubborn, while Elros, the impatient, oft mule-headed and sharp-tongued twin, was slowly uncovering his gentler, more giving side.

Whether such changes were the natural course of growing up or the benign influence of their environment was of no matter. What was of import to all was that Elladan's sons were bidding fair to match their father and his twin in the comeliness of their features, bodies and spirits. Without a doubt, Legolas welcomed their burgeoning maturity but, at the same time, he also regretted the disappearance of the innocent Elflings he had loved so well.

They returned to him and he set them to practicing their skills as he did whenever he and Elrohir came north to visit.

From his vantage point a few paces back, Lindir watched the trio with quiet enjoyment. It was always a pleasure for him to regard such martial grace and skill in action. Though he was a capable warrior, he owned himself no master of the battle-arts. Thus, he appreciated those who were and admired them greatly for the hard work and discipline they put into perfecting their skills.

The three Elves before him were more than worthy of anyone's admiration. Legolas was as renowned a warrior as the senior Peredhil twins were. And Elladan's sons showed every indication of following in their father and uncles' legendary footsteps.

Some time later, Legolas released them into Ailios' care; the chief advisor had come to fetch them for their history lessons. The prince stayed on to continue his drill.

Lindir followed the brethren with his eyes as they headed back to the house with Ailios. He could not help focusing his gaze on one twin in particular.

"You aim high, Lindir."

The snidely uttered insinuation made him stiffen. But he stifled the impulse to return a caustic retort and turned to face Merenwë.

"I beg your pardon, counsellor?" he quietly said.

"You heard me," the advisor snipped. "Ever have you set your sights on your betters. To no avail, thank Eru. It would not do for such illustrious _Edhil_ to stoop so low."

The steward's cheeks burned at the slight but he maintained his calm.

"You were ever tart of tongue, Merenwë," he remarked. "But of late, you have become overly sharp."

"If I have, 'tis to protect those I serve," Merenwë replied.

Lindir raised a finely arched eyebrow. "To protect them or to possess them?" At Merenwë's slight surprise, he continued: "You hope to ally yourself with the Peredhil through one of Lord Elladan's sons. Do not think I have not marked your unwonted interest in Elros."

This time it was Merenwë's turn to flush. Collecting himself, he looked disdainfully at the steward.

"Whatever my interests, it changes not the fact that a mere steward _and_ former housemaster should know better than to aspire to bed his own lord's son. _Or_ his own lord for that matter!" When Lindir paled at so base an accusation, he said sneeringly: "Think you I did not note your regard for Lord Elladan? 'Tis fortunate he had the good taste not to return it." He shrugged contemptuously. "What is it about you Sindar? Always, you strive to ennoble yourselves through alliances with the Noldor. 'Tis a deplorable practice that—"

He broke off as a slender figure silently joined them. He pursed his thin lips when Legolas smilingly planted himself beside Lindir. The archer's smile did not reach his eyes.

"That is a fascinating contention, Merenwë," Legolas coolly commented. "Are you suggesting that I ennobled myself by binding to Elrohir?"

Merenwë turned diplomatic all at once. "'Twas but a turn of phrase, my prince," he offered. "An imprudent one, I admit."

"An uncivil one as well," Legolas amended. "You dislike my kindred, it seems, yet the Peredhil themselves are descended from both Noldor and Sindar and even the mortal Edain. Do you deem yourself their superior?"

"Of course not!" Merenwë snapped, his superciliousness getting the better of him. "Lord Elrond should have been High-king after Ereinion had he only accepted what was his by right. We speak of scions of the line of Turgon of Gondolin, himself descended from the Elvenkings of Eldamar!'

"Why do you not mention Thingol of Doriath who beheld the Two Trees but chose to remain in these Hither Lands? Is it because he cast his lot with mere Wood-elves?" Lindir softly but pointedly said.

Merenwë bristled. "The Peredhil have always comported themselves as Noldor!" he said harshly.

"And have ever taken Sindar as their mates," Legolas drawled gibingly. "Not to mention humans."

The counsellor reddened. "That is a regrettable fault of theirs."

"Ah, you do dislike my kindred," Legolas said, his voice a shade colder.

Forgetting himself, Merenwë dropped all pretense at civility. "What is there to like in a folk who seek to raise their stock by coupling and breeding with those of nobler blood than theirs?" His dark eyes suddenly flashed viciously at Legolas. The archer was surprised but did not flinch. "Even you, O Prince! And you not even Thranduil's heir but merely his third-spawn."

Suspicion flared in Legolas' mind. He skewered the advisor with a gaze so black it prompted the latter to take a hasty step backward.

"And did you once seek to ennoble yourself as well, Merenwë?" he growled. "And in failing would now vent your spleen on me?"

Merenwë blanched at the blunt accusation. He trembled visibly, barely able to suppress his fear and anger.

"You speak nonsense, Wood-elf!" he snarled.

"You forget your place, Merenwë!" Lindir objected, shocked at such blatant disrespect shown to the woodland prince. "You cannot speak thusly to your lord!"

The counsellor regarded him haughtily. "He is not _my_ lord," he snapped. "Merely the mate of him who is."

With that, he turned and strode back briskly to the house. Legolas and Lindir watched him go, both careful to hold in their ire.

"He shows his true colors," Legolas remarked acidly. "He has harbored his resentments for years."

Lindir nodded. "Aye, but I did not think he would dare demean you," he said angrily. "Is he mad?"

"Nay, only so filled with rage that he no longer used his reason," Legolas replied.

"But surely he fears what Lord Elrohir will do once he hears of this," Lindir commented.

"I wager he thinks that, in our benighted woodland pride, we will hold our tongues rather than own ourselves in need of the protection of others."

"He is not only mad then but also a fool," Lindir said. He looked keenly at Legolas. "My lords must hear of this."

"They will," Legolas assured him. "I am not so proud that I would conceal so flagrant an offence from my mate. Merenwë must be chastened lest he grows bolder and heaps abuse on others less able to defend themselves."

Lindir smiled faintly then. "Speaking of which, you so kindly did for me," he said. "My thanks."

"I merely hearkened to our common heritage," Legolas answered. "As well as our common preference for twins of the Peredhil line."

Lindir shook his head. "What Merenwë said—"

"Was all too true," Legolas interrupted gently. At Lindir's uncertain reaction, he added, "There is little that Elladan keeps from Elrohir and even less that Elrohir hides from me."

"You are not appalled?" Lindir asked warily.

"I should say not," Legolas rejoined. "If I have one cause for worry, it is that mayhap you have turned your affection to Elros because he is so alike to his father." He regarded Lindir closely. "Is it Elros you love or the image of Elladan that you see in him?"

Lindir shook his head. "I have put the past behind me," he said. "What I felt once for Elladan is but a memory to me now. Elros owes his place in my heart to no one." He looked at Legolas unflinchingly. "I love him and him alone."

Legolas nodded and relaxed. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Then we are in accord. I wish you well, Lindir, and as much luck as you may need."

Lindir sighed. "And as I told Elladan, 'tis most unlikely anything will come out of my regard for his son."

"You do not know that," the archer said. "Any more than I knew that Elrohir would choose a mere Wood-elf to espouse."

"You are not a mere Wood-elf!" Lindir objected indignantly.

"Yet I am a pure-blood of my kindred whereas you are half-Noldo," Legolas pointed out. "By Merenwë's twisted estimation, that elevates you a notch higher even than my own father."

Lindir sniffed contemptuously. "Merenwë can stuff his idiotic opinions up his backside!'

The prince burst out laughing, the sound of it so infectious that Lindir joined him an instant later. They shared a few moments of mirth at the advisor's expense. After a spell, Legolas quelled his laughter and placed a comradely hand on Lindir's shoulder.

"The Peredhil decide for themselves who are worthy of them," he said. "They set no great store by the trappings of position or the traditions of race and blood. Their choices of mates have ever been dictated by their noble hearts and no other considerations." He smiled warmly. "Else Elessar would not now have the Evenstar as his queen, my sister would not be the mother of Elladan's sons and I would not know the bliss of my Elf-knight's blessed regard."

The archer's kindling eyes softened as he spoke this last. Lindir had to smile at such patent joy. Though he did not believe so happy a fate would be his, he rejoiced nonetheless in the felicity of others.

oOoOoOo

The quill scratched repeatedly across the crisp sheet of parchment. Legolas watched his sable-maned knight as the other pressed on with the numerous missives he needed to send come morning.

They had retired from company for the night but, in Elrohir's case, not from duty. Though bathed and already clad as Legolas in naught but a night-robe, he had seated himself at the handsome writing desk in their bedchamber to finish his correspondence. Legolas waited patiently on their bed, long legs pulled up and slender arms wrapped around his knees. But after a long while, patience gave out.

"Elrohir."

"Hm?"

"Did you ever bed Merenwë?"

The quill stopped moving with a jerk and disbelieving grey eyes alighted on the archer. Elrohir stared at Legolas in downright surprise.

"Why do you ask?"

"Why do you evade?"

The Elf-knight regarded his mate curiously then laid down his quill and turned in the chair to face him.

"Aye, I did," he answered in all honesty.

Legolas' eyes darkened with displeasure but he only said, "Before you had me, I hope."

Elrohir frowned. "No other _ellon_ followed you, beloved," he said. "I wanted no other."

The blue eyes lightened and a wan smile curled the rosy lips. "I wonder that you could stomach him."

Elrohir shrugged. "He was not so irksome as he is now. And I was indiscriminate in my youth. A fact of which you are well aware."

"He was a challenge?"

"Nay, he showed me no resistance in the least. He was no more than a bed-treat to me." He turned even more curious as Legolas seemed to ponder something. "What is this about, Legolas?"

The prince sighed and rested his chin on his knees. "It explains much."

"Explains what?"

"Why he did not depart with your father for Aman. Why he has never shown me more than the barest courtesy."

Elrohir rose from his chair and joined his golden spouse on the bed. Facing Legolas, he peered wonderingly at him.

"What mischief did he wreak on you, Calenlass?" he asked frowningly.

"Not mischief but his bile," Legolas replied. "And as much on Lindir as on me."

Elrohir's eyes darkened ominously. "Tell me."

"He desired you, Aduial," the archer said. At the Elf-knight's shock, he went on. "When you took him to your bed, he misguidedly believed you returned his desire. No doubt he discerned soon enough where you had bestowed your love but when I did not seem inclined to return it, he thought he still stood a chance of winning you."

Elrohir pursed his lips with displeasure. "Then I was his reason for staying here," he murmured.

Legolas nodded. "And I to blame for denying him his chance with you."

Elrohir snorted. "I would have sooner kissed an orc than bound myself to that arrogant son-of-a-troll," he growled. "What else did he say?"

Legolas told him the rest. By the time he finished, the Elf-knight's eyes had blackened to coal grey, their argent hue subdued by his still fury. "The gall of that blackguard to show you so little respect! And to demean Lindir's feelings when he knows nothing of true love—!" The warrior looked fit to skin the counsellor alive and roast him to a fine turn.

"But what if he does know?" Legolas mused. "Surely if he cared only for the benefits of an alliance with your house, he would not have fixed his eyes on Elros alone. Mayhap he does have some affection for him."

"_His_ questionable notion of affection, if so," Elrohir retorted. "But I seriously doubt that, Calenlass. If he desires to woo Elros 'tis not because of love but because of expediency. Elendir has shown a decided inclination for female-kind while Elros has displayed no marked preference for one or the other." His eyes narrowed. "Merenwë has outstayed his welcome," he said icily. "'Tis time he was asked to take his leave of Imladris."

Legolas did not hide his pleasure at this pronouncement. "But whatever possessed your father to accept him as a counsellor in the first place?" he inquired.

"Ill-founded gratitude," Elrohir explained. "When it was learned that he was building Imladris, many Elves from Lindon came to help or seek new challenges. Merenwë was one of them. He was more tolerable in those days and much of his counsel was sound enough to gain him a place amongst _Adar's_ advisors."

"Not to mention your bed," Legolas could not help putting in.

"Calenlass," Elrohir said warningly. "'Twas but part of the folly of my reckless youth, nothing more." He reached out and cupped the prince's chin in his hand. "Surely he did not make you doubt the rightness of our love?"

At that, Legolas suddenly beamed brightly. "Not in the least! You are mine, Elrohir. I defy anyone to try and take you away from me."

The silver of the warrior's eyes flamed anew. With startling swiftness, he pried Legolas' arms from his knees, summarily parted his legs and all but hauled the prince onto his lap. Gasping, Legolas found himself astride the Elf-knight's groin and in danger of impalement upon a sudden and most potent arousal. He groaned as Elrohir nibbled at his throat even as he yanked his night-robe open to bare the archer to his touch.

Legolas nearly reared when the twin's hand slipped between them to cup and fondle him until he was aching with a wild and wanton need.

"You are wicked," he panted when Elrohir grasped him by the hips and positioned him for their joining.

"Should I stop?" Elrohir teasingly inquired.

"Only if you do not value your life, Elf-knight!" Legolas retorted.

Whereupon Elrohir proceeded to show him how much he valued his life. And the love that made it worth living.

Glossary:  
tuilë - Quenya for spring  
ellon – male Elf  
Edhil - Elves  
Aduial – Twilight  
Calenlass - Greenleaf

_To be continued_…


	131. In His Father's Image 3

_**In His Father's Image**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III  
The woods of Rivendell in spring were lovely beyond compare. Clad as they were in the first blossoms of the waking year, fragrant with the heady scents of lush greenery and pungent herbs, alive with the music of birds returning to their northern nests – the hidden vale's forests were the closest the Hither Lands' would ever get to the enchanted woods of the Blessed Realm now that Lothlórien was but a memory.

But Elros paid neither beauty nor scents nor sounds much heed as he walked musingly down one of the many paths that cut through the woods. The younger son of Elladan was the more introspective of the brethren and, this afternoon, he was deeper in thought than usual.

Though alike in face and form to his father and his father's twin, in nature he was more akin to the brother of the Peredhel he had been named after. It had not been readily apparent at first, this similarity in thought and spirit to Elrond. But in recent years, as his coming-of-age drew closer and his maturity deepened, Elros had begun to manifest many of his grandsire's qualities.

They were in their nascent stages as yet but there was no denying Elrond's traits in his younger grandson. His quiet yet forceful presence, his wisdom, both inborn and learned, his almost preternatural calm, and his gentleness that concealed a latent ferocity that came to the fore when peril threatened. Though mere minutes younger than Elendir, there were times he seemed the elder and by many years.

But in one matter he differed from his grandfather and from his sire and brother as well. He yearned not for his mother's kind but for his father's.

That had puzzled him initially. He had expected to feel the pull towards both male and female-folk. After all, both Elladan and Elrohir had known such mixed stirrings and, belatedly, even Legolas. Yet it seemed he and Elendir were fated to follow essentially different paths in matters of the heart.

Elendir was definitely enamored of womankind. He delighted in the displays of affection between their parents; would dare, as many a brash young Elf had done since time immemorial, to observe unseen the charms of the _ellyth_ of the valley. And of these there was a renewed abundance. Many had come from forsaken Lórien while others had abandoned the wandering companies to settle for a spell in Imladris.

But Elros, while appreciative of said charms and thrilled by the passion of his parents, simply did not yearn for an _elleth's_ touch. It was not the soft silk of females he longed for but the hard steel of males.

He had realized this when he came upon his uncles one hot summer day by the Bruinen and found himself stirred by what they shared as he had never been before. It had not even been a carnal act that he had witnessed; merely the evidence of the deep intimacy of their hearts and spirits.

Legolas and Elrohir had just emerged from the bracing waters of the Loudwater and had only donned their long breeches when horseplay ensued. Their admittedly long years were no hindrance to their occasional penchant for merriment of the juvenile sort. In the course of their playful wrestling, Elrohir had backed Legolas up against a tree. In the next instant, they were both locked in a long, all consuming kiss of deep affection.

Neither had attempted to extend the caress into a more thorough interlude; both had a full day of duties to attend to. But the image of their lean, muscular forms molded against each other, powerful warrior's hands holding the other close and fierce unflinching gazes promising more than clutches and kisses later in the deeps of the night had lingered in Elros' mind. It had left him all but undone for the first time in his young life and awakened the dormant yearnings of his maturing body and heart.

In particular, one yearning. He sighed in frustration. It was so difficult when one was still too young to indulge one's self in more than self-applied caresses. On these, his father and uncles had been most informative, their consideration for his and his twin's budding desires moving them to explain in startling detail what both might expect when they finally could and did engage partners in more intimate play. But until then, they had to content themselves with their own devices.

Tradition frowned upon Elves in their minority satisfying their concupiscence in partnership with another. More abhorred was the taking of a child by a mature Edhel, even in the name of instruction.

And Elros knew he was a child still in the eyes of his elders. Until his coming-of-age, his favors were forbidden to anyone, _ellyn_ and _ellyth_ alike. Until he reached his majority five years hence, he could not seek tutelage in that most intimate act of the love-arts.

He suddenly smiled and a sparkle lit his unusual eyes. At least, he already knew just who he would approach to tutor him when that much anticipated time arrived. Not for him a chance encounter that might or might not culminate in enlightenment. Nay, he would not learn his bed-manners in the arms of a stranger. His would be more than an initiation into the mere joining of bodies. What he had learned several summers back boded a gentle coupling of hearts as well.

So deep was he in this pleasant thought that he did not sense the presence of another until the other was nigh upon him. He whirled, body tensing not in alarm for he was within the secure bounds of Imladris, but in wariness of any unexpected situation as he had been assiduously trained to do since the onset of his adolescence.

"Merenwë!" he softly exclaimed in surprise. What was the counsellor doing, skulking after him like that?

The advisor halted, a little taken aback by the youth's swift reflexes. He shrank back, looking quite unlike his usual dapper, confident and condescending self. He was not formally be-robed for office as was his habit and the plaiting of his black tresses left something to be desired in neatness.

"Are you well, counsellor?" Elros queried in concern, approaching the other. He was not particularly close to the advisor nor had he had enough dealings with him to predispose him toward or against him. He was cognizant of others' grumblings regarding the latter's behavior and tart tongue but Elros had never been one to judge others by hearsay, even during his most recalcitrant years.

He stopped, however, when he detected the faintest reek of alcohol. Merenwë had imbibed quite a bit it seemed though he was far from inebriated. Elros frowned in even more concern.

"Is it not a little early to have indulged yourself so fulsomely?" he remarked somewhat disapprovingly.

Merenwë directed a startlingly emotion-filled stare at him. "You would indulge yourself as well were you the recipient of such news as I had to bear this day," he bleated.

"What news?"

"I have been dismissed," he announced. At the younger Elf's confused reaction, he pressed on. "The Lords Elladan and Elrohir bade me depart from Imladris and return to Lindon. They informed me that they no longer have need of my services." He shuddered.

Elros frowned more deeply. Merenwë had served his family since the Second Age. It seemed quite unfair to send him away now and so arbitrarily at that.

"On what grounds did they request you to leave?" he inquired.

Merenwë's mouth tightened. "Because I was foolish enough to have revealed a long hidden affection."

Elros was all the more appalled. That was not at all something he'd expected his father or uncle to do. Why banish someone for falling in love?

"There must be an error," he cautiously suggested. "They would not judge anyone because of a belatedly admitted love."

"They would if that love was for one of their own." When Elros gasped, he trained an unabashedly feeling gaze upon him. "If it was for you, my young lord."

Elros swallowed hard, speechless for the moment. "I never suspected—" he haltingly said. "But I am flattered that – that one so august as yourself should hold such a regard for me."

"Are you, _pen neth_?"—young one?—Merenwë purred. The unexpected intimate tone of his voice caused both a learned wave of caution and a natural thrill of reaction to course through Elros' nerves.

"But of course, counsellor," he replied. "Who would not?" Slightly alarmed by the darkened gleam in the others eyes, he quickly added: "But I still do not understand. You have never approached me before. Why would they condemn you for feeling thusly about me?"

"Because Lindir carried the tale to them," Merenwë replied, his voice edged with venom.

Elros gaped. "Lindir?"

"Aye. Your steward betrayed my confidences in him. He told them of my feelings and worse." The advisor's features darkened angrily. "He suggested I had less than honorable designs on you."

Elros shook his head, incredulous. "Why would he—?"

"Because he feels for you as I do."

Elros went still. He regarded Merenwë steadily, a commendable response in one so young whose life had been so summarily rocked by sordid revelations.

Encouraged by Elros' silence, Merenwë went on. "He desires you, Elros. He has been eyeing you for some time now, has oft stalked you when you were unaware of his presence." He could not stay a small smile when the other caught his breath in shock. "He would have long taken you for his own, _pen neth_, against all dictates of our kindred's laws were it not for my vigilance."

Elros stared at him. "Your vigilance?!"

"I have kept watch over him these many years since I first discerned his unholy yearnings. I feared for your innocence should he forswear the traditions of our people and touch you afore your appointed time." He reached out a hand and stroked the youth's smooth cheek. "Verily have I protected your virtue, Elros, out of love for you."

To his surprise, Elros' eyes suddenly turned icy. The young Elf jerked back his head, stepped away out of his reach.

"You lie!" he snapped. "Lindir would never do anything so base!"

"But he would," Merenwë insisted, bemused at what had so precipitately set Elros against him. "I have seen him follow you around, witnessed how he observes you at the most unseemly occasions. I have even caught him studying you when you use the public baths."

"Mayhap 'tis you who indulges in such unseemly behavior," Elros hissed. When Merenwë flushed, the young Elf knew himself to be correct in his suspicion. "Begone! I will hear no more of this!"

Elros spun on his heel to leave. He was shocked, therefore, when Merenwë grabbed him by the arm and forced him back.

"You would defend the steward and impugn my honor in one breath?" he growled, his less than sober state more apparent now in the slight slurring of his words in his agitation. "I will teach you your manners, _hir neth_! 'Tis time someone did and I see no reason why I should not be the one to do so!"

Elros broke away, tried to run, but was caught in strong arms. Yet he was no helpless Elfling and he jabbed his elbow into the other's belly. Merenwë partly released him with a grunt and he shoved the counsellor away. Pushed beyond reason, the latter swung furiously at him. Evading the blow, Elros managed to hook his leg behind the other's knees and trip him. Merenwë fell.

Again, Elros whirled to flee. He had been trained to fight and defend himself but he was no fool to believe himself a match for a full-grown Elf. Warrior Merenwë was not but, as had most Noldor, he had seen his share of war and been as much soldier as counsellor in his youth.

Merenwë lunged forward on his belly and grasped the lad's ankle. Pulling hard, he sent Elros sprawling. Before the young Elf could scramble to his feet, the advisor was upon him.

oOoOoOo

Lindir hesitated as he walked down the forest path. He wondered if he was doing the right thing or not.

He had earlier watched from afar as Elros went for a leisurely stroll in this stretch of woods that he favored. He had not meant to spy on the youth at all but had been on his way back from a visit to the outlying communities in the vale. As chief steward, it was his duty to every once in a while check on the well-being of the citizens of Imladris. He was just returning from one such trip when he saw Elladan's son vanish into the forest.

He had not thought to follow the youth. That was highly inappropriate. But someone else had not deemed it so. A prickle of suspicion had been his first reaction upon seeing Merenwë enter those same woods several minutes later. Instead of going back to the house, Lindir had stopped and pondered what to do about such misconduct. At length, he decided to go after the advisor and see what he was about.

Halfway into the woods, he stopped. What business was it of his anyway? From what he had observed, it seemed that Merenwë was keeping an assignation with Elros. Joint pangs of jealousy and resignation smote the steward. Well, why not? Merenwë was an Elf of good family and standing, a respected counsellor for all his less than likeable demeanor. A good match for either of Elladan's sons.

Not that he even suspected the two of doing any more indiscreet than furtive caresses. That was permissible to a certain extent. And the Peredhil had always been more enterprising in this respect than most, even Elrond in his youth. He sighed. He should have thought hard on his actions before following.

He was about to turn around and retreat when an angry howl rent the peace of the woods.

"Get off me!"

Shocked, Lindir sprinted in the direction from whence the cry had come. He came upon Merenwë straddling a furiously resisting Elros. The counsellor had torn open the youth's tunic and shirt and was now attempting to unlace his breeches. Elros was not making it easy for him but he was undoubtedly at a disadvantage, supine as he was on the forest floor with the heftier, stronger Elf atop him.

Rage coursed through every creep and cranny of Lindir's being as he sped toward the grappling pair. He grabbed Merenwë by the scruff of his tunic collar and hauled him off Elros. The by-now reasonless counsellor threw a wild punch at him but it proved but a glancing blow as Lindir stepped back. Before Merenwë gained proper footing, Lindir struck his jaw so hard that he staggered backward. Another blow and he collapsed, senseless.

Lindir ascertained first that he was definitely out cold before turning his attention to Elros. He paused and regarded the young Elf with dawning admiration.

Elros took his time to study the prone advisor before raising his eyes to Lindir. Gratitude and appreciation lingered in their grey depths. But not turmoil or horror. He was cool and collected even in the aftermath of his first encounter with this manner of adversity.

Lindir offered him a helping hand. When it was accepted, he pulled the twin to his feet. While Elros dusted himself off, the steward quickly perused his form for any injuries. But though his clothing was rent and his breech-laces loose, he was himself quite unhurt. Lindir blew out a relieved breath.

"My thanks," Elros softly said. "Your timing was impeccable, Lindir."

Lindir shook his head. "I cannot believe he dared so heinous a thing," he remarked. "I am glad I followed you here."

"You followed?"

A slight blush stained Lindir's cheeks at the youth's almost amused tone. "I saw him go after you," he admitted. "I do not know what impelled me to follow him. Certainly not any suspicion of this! Indeed, I had thought you knew of his presence."

Fine eyebrows rose in amazement. "You thought we were trysting?" Elros half gasped out. "Why ever would I choose _him_ as my first bed-teacher?"

Lindir rolled his eyes at such vivid bluntness. He supposed it was to be expected of Elladan's son. Not to mention Elrohir's nephew. "Well, why not?" he countered. "He is handsome enough and of respectable lineage."

Elros snorted. "As if I care for such things. I have never harbored an interest in Merenwë though he claimed to have felt something for me. He is the last Elf in Arda I would have considered for that." He shook his head in even greater amusement.

"You sound as if you already have someone in mind," Lindir murmured as he began cutting down vines with which to bind the advisor. He strove to keep any of his envy from manifesting itself in his voice.

"I do though he does not know it yet," Elros replied cheekily. "And he will not until the proper time."

Bending over Merenwë, Lindir was grateful that the task hid his face. It hurt deeply to know the truth in Elros' heart but he would not permit his feelings to show. He would not inflict such a burden on the younger Elf for burden it would be should Elros learn of his hopeless love. Knowing the Peredhil as he did, Lindir was certain this twin would feel guilt for unwittingly causing him pain. He would not do that to Elros. And so he busied himself with trussing up the counsellor until he could control his feelings once more, comforted by his timely rescue of the twin. At least, he could take some solace from the knowledge that Elros' first experience in the bed-arts would be with someone he cared for and not at the hands of this would-be ravager.

He averted his face when Elros helped him by binding the advisor's ankles. When they were done, he bent and easily slung Merenwë over his shoulder. Elros regarded him with sudden admiration.

"You are stronger than I ever suspected, Lindir," he remarked as they started on the short trek back.

Lindir shook his head. "I have carried heavier loads in my time," he dismissed. A moment later, he wished he had held his tongue. His answer had only served to remind Elros of what he once had been. A housemaster who had oft joined his staff as they hauled and hefted weighty supplies and the like to the Last Homely House's various pantries, cellars and storerooms.

But Elros gave no sign of being put off at all. "Aye, I can imagine you did," he said. "I hope I shall gain as much strength as yours when I am fully grown. Mayhap I should help the servants in their chores as well."

Lindir laughed softly. "Your father and uncle used to assist us when they were your age," he admitted. "Though I warrant it was as much for them to see what they could use in their jests as it was to be of help to us."

Elros chuckled. "But you continue to do your share though 'tis no longer required of you," he remarked. When Lindir only nodded smilingly, he said, "Then I will do mine as well. And I will see if I can persuade Elendir to join me."

Lindir's smile widened approvingly. "It will hearten the servants to know your consideration for them as it did in your father's time. Now come, I would have this problem dealt with soonest." He shifted the weight on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

They hurried back to the Last Homely House.

oOoOoOo

Merenwë gained his senses soon after he was dumped on the couch in the main hall of the house. He soon had reason to wish he had not when Nimeithel displayed her seldom seen temper. She scarcely waited for the bewildered advisor to stumble to his feet when she broke away from Elladan and dealt him a hearty buffet. It was no delicate slap designed to leave raked welts but a solid punch that created a nicely purpling and painful bruise on his cheek. Not for nothing had she once trained under her husband and law-brother's soldier's eyes.

Elladan caught his furious wife back lest she resort to violence that might very well end up in the latest round of kinslaying to assail Middle-earth.

"Unhand me, _hervenn_!"—husband!—she spat. "This cur needs be taught a lesson!"

"And he will be taught one," Elladan said. "Peace, _melethril_, I will not have you overwrought over him. _Gwenyn_!"—Twins!

Swiftly Elendir and Elros caught their mother in their soothing arms, Elros in particular murmuring calming words to her, assuring her of his well-being. After a moment, the woodland princess managed to regain control of herself and she subsided into her sons' balming embraces.

In the meantime, the elder twins faced a surprisingly unrepentant Merenwë. It was plain the counsellor had been pushed beyond sufferance and no longer cared what they thought of him. He glared at them defiantly then dared to bestow upon Elros a patently unchaste smile.

Elladan would have dealt him a blow of his own as would Elrohir but neither cared to lower himself to the other Elf's level. But behind them, Legolas openly flexed his fingers then lowered them to the hilt of his knife. There was no mistaking what he might very well do should the advisor debase his nephew with another leer. Merenwë noted the cold blue eyes and decided to desist from further provoking displays for the moment.

"You have attempted the most atrocious of offenses, Merenwë," Elladan snapped. "Not only would you have forced yourself upon one unwilling but an Elf in his minority as well. What have you to say in your defense, scum?"

Merenwë actually swaggered somewhat or as well as he could with the warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, directly behind him. "'Twas not to despoil that I sought to take him but to ensure our eventual mating," he said, voice shaded with his familiar arrogance. At the collective gasp of shock, he went on, smiling pridefully at Elladan. "You would not have denied me your son if only to save him from fading."

"You spawn of an orc!" Elladan snarled. "Think you I would have yielded him to one so base?'

"I think you would have, my lord, rather than lose him to the Halls of Awaiting," Merenwë countered.

"Better the Halls of Awaiting than be bound in torment to you!" Elros suddenly declared, eyes flashing with burning ice. "Declare your judgment, _Adar_, and have him gone soonest else I swear I shall deal my own justice!"

Though aching to wrap his fingers around Merenwë's neck, Elladan swallowed the impulse and nodded. He glanced at Elrohir then stepped back to enfold his family in his arms. He did not trust himself not to break in fury should Merenwë react as tauntingly as before.

Elrohir reached out, grasped the advisor by the collar and roughly pulled him close until they were all but eye-to-eye. The _mithril_-hued pools glinted with lethal fire.

"You could not have me to further your ambitions and so thought to take your undeserved reward from another," he hissed. Merenwë's eyes widened in surprise at the Elf-knight's assertion. "You are lower than the orcs who at least do not trouble to mask their baseness before they assault their victims. But you—!"

He shoved Merenwë into the steely grasps of Daurin and Enedrion. "You served our house well in ages past, that we cannot deny," he coldly said. "That alone has spared you from the punishment you so richly deserve. But your treachery against one of our young cannot be forgiven or forgotten; not here or even in Lindon where we had previously bade you retire. Therefore, it is our decision that you be sent to Círdan to take ship out of Mithlond and sail for Aman where you will rejoin the Noldor you profess to love so much. _They_ will judge you for this transgression under the auspices of the Valar themselves."

Merenwë stared popeyed at him. That was not what he had expected at all. To be judged by the Noldor of the Blessed Realm who still strove to atone for their past sins... and they ruled by Finarfin, the Peredhil's own forefather—! No longer self-assured, he was so busy thinking of all the repercussions of their decision that he did not notice Elladan's signal to the warriors. He gasped in alarm but had no time to put up much of a resistance when they unceremoniously bundled him out of the hall to confine him in one of the seldom used cells near the barracks.

Elrohir sighed in disgust then turned to regard his brother and the latter's family. He smiled wanly when Legolas came to his side and slipped an arm around his waist. He glanced at Elros.

"'Tis fortunate you were able to keep him from doing worse ere Lindir came to you," he remarked.

Elros raised his head from his mother's shoulder. "I would have fought him to the death, Uncle, rather than let him soil me."

"Hush, dear one," Nimeithel reproved. "Speak not of such things."

"But I would have, _Nana_"—Mama—Elros gently insisted. "There would have been no other recourse."

"You mentioned earlier that you did not know whether his assertions were true or not," Legolas said. "What made you recognize them for false?"

"His accusations against Lindir," Elros answered.

The steward started then stared at him. He had remained silent all these time, ready to assist if necessary but otherwise stayed by himself by the door leading to the east wing of the house. The others, too, gazed at the younger twin with surprise.

"What did he say about Lindir?" Elladan inquired.

"He imputed to Lindir his own base desires," Elros said, eyes going to the steward. "Once he did, I knew him for a liar," he continued, speaking to Lindir directly. "I knew you would never do any of the things he accused you of." His eyes softened with utmost respect and genuine affection. "You are too honorable an Elf to ever transgress against me in that manner."

Lindir felt his cheeks burn. He did not dare look at Elros' parents or uncles who knew the truth all too well. If only Elros was aware of his own desires, he would not be so kindly in his regard now, the steward thought. But he took hold of himself and managed a whispered, "Thank you."

"Nay, 'tis we who should thank you many times over," Nimeithel said. She went to him. Taking his capable hands into hers, she very softly added: "I confess I had reservations about you when Elladan told me of your love for Elros. But now I know my husband chose wisely in entrusting both our sons to your care."

Lindir could only mutely nod his head, moved by his lady's unspoken approbation of his feelings for her child. She smiled then returned to her husband's embrace.

oOoOoOo

Daurin himself led the contingent that would take Merenwë to Lindon. They left the following morning, the Imladrin captain bearing a letter from Elladan to Círdan explaining the circumstances and requesting the shipwright's assistance. Merenwë stared glumly at the document Lindir handed to Daurin. He did not doubt in the least that Círdan would accommodate the twin lords of Rivendell with all alacrity.

Before he was led to his mount, he glared at Lindir with a last minute spurt of rancor. "So, you will now find your path clear to your desire," he snipped. "That should make you happy, half-breed!"

Lindir gazed at him, the pity in his hazel eyes so intense it disconcerted the erstwhile counsellor.

"That is your tragedy, Merenwë," he quietly rejoined. "You have not learned that love is not about owning but about giving."

Merenwë stared at him, confused by both his words and his compassion. But he had no more time to consider either when Daurin and another warrior firmly took him to one of the steeds and none too gently hoisted him aloft it. Speedily, the others vaulted onto their own horses and, with a last salute by the captain to the chief steward, departed the grounds of the Last Homely House.

Lindir watched them until they disappeared from sight. Then, sighing pensively, he entered the house. He neither saw nor sensed the Elf who observed him in turn as he made his way to the study to begin his day's toils.

Glossary:  
ellyth – Elf-maids (sing. elleth)  
Edhil – Elves  
ellyn – male Elves  
hir neth – lordling  
melethril – female lover  
Adar – Father

_To be continued_…


	132. In His Father's Image 4

_**In His Father's Image**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV  
Eryn Gael, Ithilien_, Nínui_ F.A. 81  
"_Adar_? Would you explain something to us?"

"Ask."

"Why did you and Uncle Elrohir not pass judgment on Merenwë yourselves?"

Elladan looked at his sons in startlement. As did Lindir who was supervising the laying of tables and benches in the clearing before Legolas' halls. He surreptitiously eyed the twins and their father, wondering at their belated curiosity.

At the approach of their majority rites, the twins had surprised and delighted their parents by requesting that the celebrations be held in Ithilien. It had been a surprise for they had not previously indicated this preference. It had taken Elladan and Nimeithel unawares. But it had well pleased them. For one, the milder climate of the south would permit the festivities to be held outdoors. But even more important, it meant the entire royal family of Gondor would now be able to attend the rites. There had been the greatest chance that Arwen would be unable to make the long journey north. She was childing again with her sixth and last babe and was prone to the illnesses that beset expecting women of all races.

And so they had departed for the south towards autumn's end and wintered in Eryn Gael, residing in the gracious dwelling Legolas and Elrohir called home.

This morn, the colony was humming with activity as its Elves readied their abode for the festivities that very evening. Already, word had reached them of Aragorn and Arwen's imminent arrival along with their only son, Eldarion, his wife, Ilien, and their two children and his four sisters, three law-brothers and one small niece and an infant nephew.

"Why do you ask this only now?" Elladan said quizzically. Five years had passed since Merenwë's ignoble departure from Middle-earth.

"In truth, we were so eager to see him punished at the time that we did not give much thought to the reasoning behind your judgment," Elendir explained.

"But now we very much desire to comprehend it," Elros said.

"That we may be guided should we be called upon to make a similar choice," Elendir concluded.

Elladan smiled, not a little proud of their inquisitiveness. "What do you wish to know in particular?" he asked.

Elros said: "Why did you send him to Valinor? Was it your intention that our grandsire and grandam and Grandmother Galadriel be the ones to judge him?"

"Nay, never that," Elladan replied. "They would have inhibited themselves from such an action in the first place. They are too close in kinship to us to make a sound or just decision. Our reason for sending Merenwë hence was less noble than you may wish." When neither twin flinched, he continued.

"We knew he would find it more unbearable to be sent thus than any punishment we might have meted out to him." He grinned a little ruefully at their astonished stares. "You have your Grandfather Celeborn to thank for that. 'Twas ever his way of disciplining his own people of Lórien. A simple matter of choosing that which is feared or loathed and using it as a means of chastisement. 'Twas a most effective means of teaching a lesson and still is."

The brethren shook their heads in amazement then looked to where their silver-haired forefather sat with their mother, discussing with her some matter or other.

Celeborn had been away during the events that had culminated in Merenwë's banishment. But even then he'd had a great influence on his grandsons' subsequent decisions. Admiration stirred in the twins' blue-ringed grey eyes.

"Thank you, _Ada_"—Papa—they chorused before hurrying off to complete their own chores.

Still smiling, Elladan turned his attention back to his previous task. He caught Lindir looking his way. He raised questioning eyebrows. The steward flushed embarrassedly and hastily turned away.

From the window of his second-level bedchamber, Elrohir observed him in turn. The warrior had been putting the final touches to the portraits of the twins both had begged of him as his coming-of-age gifts to them. Hearing their voices, he had risen to his feet and peeked out the window to see what they were about. He was as amused as his brother at their curiosity, however late in coming it was. He'd taken a further moment to survey the activity in the clearing. His gaze had eventually fallen on Lindir.

He wondered what the steward would do. After this day, Elendir and Elros would be free to pursue and be pursued. Would Lindir make his love known to Elros? From what he had gleaned from the other Elf's utterances and past behavior, he doubted it.

He will continue to suffer in silence for want of love as I once did, he thought sadly.

A pair of arms snaked themselves around his waist from behind. He shivered as Legolas ran a wicked tongue up the curved rim of his ear to lightly suckle the delicate tip.

"I did not hear you come in," he murmured, turning his head to steal a kiss from the archer.

"You were busy pondering Lindir's travails," Legolas said. He held the Elf-knight closer. "He reminds you of your own self," he softly added.

Elrohir nodded, willingly leaning against the lean but powerful frame of his mate. "He is in a most difficult position," he opined. "At least, my hesitation to woo you did not stem from a sense of inequality in our stations in life. His does."

"Yet our nephews have never set great store by such considerations," Legolas commented.

Elrohir shrugged. "Would that Lindir might believe that and declare himself."

"There is, of course, the risk that Elros might decline his courtship after all," Legolas gently pointed out.

"There is always that risk in matters of the heart," Elrohir agreed. "But Lindir would take it if he thought himself worthy of Elros' regard. He is no coward."

"Only overly respectful of your family's exalted heritage," Legolas finished with a series of nips to the side of the Elf-knight's neck.

"Aye, that is the sum of it." A pause. "Calenlass, if you go any higher, no collar will suffice to conceal the evidence of your affection for me."

"As if you care," Legolas purred, purposely leaving a blatant love-bruise that no tunic would be able to hide.

Elrohir, caught between a groan and a chuckle, settled on a gasp instead. "Shouldn't you be helping down yonder?" he mildly inquired as yet another mark made its appearance on his fair skin.

Legolas peered over his shoulder at the goings-on below. His sister had corralled several Elves and was sweetly inveigling them into doing whatever she desired of them.

"Nimeithel has everything well in hand," he murmured. "As do I."

Elrohir uttered a much louder gasp when a questing hand disappeared down the front of his breeches. He gazed sideways at Legolas in wry admiration. The archer had loosened his lacings without his knowledge.

He said with some difficulty as he was clutched and fondled and stroked, "Shirking your duties, _ernilen_?"—my prince?

Legolas chuckled breathily. "I am merely taking time to attend to other matters, _melethron_."—lover.

Satisfied with the warrior's state of arousal, he released him. Elrohir turned to face him, pulling him close in a patently unchaste manner. Legolas smiled and cupped his face, leaned in to take a deep draught of his lips. When he drew back, the argent eyes were as lust-darkened as he could desire.

"You have tended to your gift to the _gwenyn_ long enough, Aduial," he whispered. "'Tis time you tended to me for a spell."

oOoOoOo

The rites were duly observed with all the gravity and merriment the occasion demanded. At their core were two of the comeliest Elves ever to be born into Middle-earth. So beautiful that it was not surprising a good number of the _Edhil_ present, both _ellyn_ and _ellyth_—male Elves and Elf-maids—could not help hoping for the honor of gaining either twin's first bedding. And if they followed in their father's footsteps, that event would not wait out the night's ending.

Elendir made no secret at all of his interest in the beauteous Elf-maids of Eryn Gael, ogling them openly in flagrant consideration of their charms. Nimeithel was seen to cast an accusing if slightly amused look at Elladan who seemed uncharacteristically abashed by his son's behavior.

Elros, however, kept his desire well concealed. He flirted maddeningly with all and sundry but showed none more favor than another. Clearly, if he was going to use the occasion as his brother obviously planned to, he was not going to let anyone know who would be sharing his bed this night.

Lindir studied him pensively. Of one thing the steward was certain, it would be an _ellon_ that Elros would take as his bed-teacher. The young Elf had made that clear five years ago. And he was not one of Ithilien's Elves for Elros had also indicated a long selected choice.

He watched the younger twin now as he jested with some of the Imladrin warriors who had accompanied the family to Gondor – Helmir, Dirion and Meluin. It might be one of them, Lindir thought. Elros had kept company with these three quite frequently for the past many years. It would be natural for Elros to gravitate to an Elven soldier's uncommon strength and battle prowess, traits his own father possessed. Lindir also knew they were present at Elros' own behest. But of course. He would have ensured that his chosen lover would be amongst the company that had escorted his family south.

His attention was caught by a commotion amongst the dancers. Queen Arwen had been coaxed into joining a woodland dance with Elessar despite her swollen belly. Her children and children-by-law were lost in their mirth at the sight of Aragorn trying to avoid getting butted by the result of his latest siring.

Lindir broke into an amused grin as well. All Gondor had been awed by their queen's fecundity. Few could believe that a lady with four grandchildren to her name could still be capable of carrying yet another babe of her own. But Arwen, while shorn of the immortality of her race, had not lost the agelessness of the _Edhil_. Thus, she was still youthful of face and form, her countenance unlined, her hair un-streaked by grey and her body still fertile. Only toward her life's end, as with the scions of Aragorn's line, would she know the aging of mortals though not their full weakening.

It was as the dance was coming to an end that Lindir noticed Elendir slipping away arm-in-arm with an _elleth_ of considerable beauty and elegance. He shook his head. The older twin certainly knew how to choose well. The Elf-maid was no innocent; she would be a most enthralling and thorough teacher this night.

He glanced back at Elros to find him gone. He swallowed hard. As was Dirion.

Pain lanced through Lindir's very being in that instant. So, it was for Dirion that Elros had reserved this night. He struggled to collect himself, sternly reminding himself that he had known this would happen and, therefore, should not affect him overmuch. But he found he could not still the sudden frantic beating of his heart or loosen the cruel tightening of his throat.

Fearing to be seen by the others in such a state of obvious misery, he rose to his feet and left the clearing. He hurried to the small garden behind Legolas' house. No one would venture here. He would be alone. He would be safe from prying eyes. If he wept, none would witness him and shrivel him with pity.

Lindir sank down onto a bench. History had repeated itself it seemed. Just as he had stood by and quietly watched Elladan slip away from his coming-of-age celebration with a beauteous Lindon maiden so had he now endured the Elvenlord's younger son leaving to keep an assignation with another _ellon_.

With a heavy heart he wondered at his fate to love those who were beyond his reach. For just as Elladan had once been forbidden to him so now was Elros, his father's assent notwithstanding. He sighed disconsolately. Once more he would resign himself to watching over his beloved while others took what he himself so greatly desired but was forced to deny himself. As Elladan had earlier commented, it was a wonder he had not faded from the grief. But then to fade would be to separate himself from his love and that was far worse than having it go unrequited.

It came to him then that things would not be quite that simple. His love for Elladan's son was deeper than what he'd felt for Elladan himself. The realization struck him hard. I may very well fade after all, he thought. Mayhap 'tis time I considered departing for Valinor. But the very idea of leaving his heart's choice behind weighed all too heavily on him.

As I did not leave your father, so will I stay at your side, _pen neth_—young one—he decided sadly. Even if it cost him the ultimate price.

He started when a slight figure appeared before him. He stared at Elros; the youth looked almost ethereal in the soft silvery glow of the lamps. He had doffed his tunic and was clad in the thin shirt and fine breeches the outer raiment had hidden. He regarded the steward uncertainly.

"Elros!" Lindir half exclaimed, surprised to see the young Elf. He swiftly rose to his feet. "Why did you leave Dirion?"

"Dirion?" Elros repeated bemusedly. Then he suddenly smiled. "Did you think he was with me? I saw him go to his quarters with an Ithilien Elf."

Lindir was dumbstruck a moment. He had made a wrong assumption.

"Aye, I thought you were together," he admitted. "But why are you here? Do you not enjoy the festivities?"

Elros shrugged. "I do," he replied. "But I came to claim what you have withheld, Lindir."

"What would that be?" the steward asked bemusedly.

"Why, what else but your gift to me for my coming-of-age," the twin answered with a grin.

Lindir flushed. "I am so sorry, Elros," he said embarrassedly. "In truth I did not think to get you one. But I promise I will do so if you will but wait."

The younger Elf laughed softly. The sound made Lindir wish he could bolt before his reaction betrayed him. "But I know what I want, Lindir, and you need not seek it elsewhere for the gift I desire is right here."

Lindir looked at him, perplexed. "What gift do you desire?" he asked cautiously.

The sapphire-ringed grey eyes gleamed softly. "You," Elros quietly replied.

For several moments, Lindir could only stare at him in incredulous shock. "I-I beg your pardon?" he finally managed to say.

"'Tis you I would have on this special day," Elros earnestly told him. "The gift I desire above all else. I have been waiting for nigh ten years to claim it."

The steward was rendered speechless once more. Elros pressed on, his eyes glittering in the dim light. "I overheard you when you spoke with _Adar_ that summer. I did not mean to eavesdrop but when I heard your voice and what you were saying I could not help myself. You cannot imagine how happy I was to know you felt thusly about me. And I would have you know that I am not beyond your reach. I never was, Lindir."

"But you – you never indicated—" Lindir stammered in disbelief.

"'Twas to spare you any suspicions of your intentions," Elros explained. "I sensed how much you wanted me. You would have been even more hard-pressed to suppress your desire had you known of my regard. I did not want _Adar_ and _Naneth_ to suspect you of any unseemly designs upon me."

Lindir forced himself to calm down. "Then 'twas I you were referring to that day—?"

"In the woods, aye," Elros affirmed, eyes sparkling with mingled mirth and open affection.

The steward took a deep breath. "Elros, do not ask this of me," he replied in a hushed voice. As a sudden frown appeared on the youth's fair countenance, he swept on. "I cannot in all honor give you your desire."

"Why not?" Elros queried stubbornly. "Why would you refuse me this when I know you care for me."

"Aye, I care for you, as I have always cared for all your family," Lindir said, willing his voice to remain steady and unquavering.

Elros' eyes narrowed confusedly. "I heard you say you had feelings for me. Was I mistaken?" he said, his voice suddenly small, his eyes widening with consternation. "You told _Adar_ that you had loved him," he half whispered. "Did you truly?"

Lindir sighed and nodded. Elros stepped back, visibly flinching. "Then 'tis Father you desire and not me," he choked, his voice ringing with pain. He lowered his eyes, his cheeks beginning to redden. "I misunderstood. I am sorry for imposing on you."

Lindir felt his own heart clench at the anguish in the twin's voice. His face flaming with humiliation, Elros spun on his heels to flee. But strong arms caught him and he was enveloped in the steward's embrace.

"Nay!" Lindir declared softly to the trembling Elf. "I loved him once but that is past. 'Tis you who holds my heart now, Elros, only you."

"Then why would you deny me?" Elros whispered brokenly.

"I am not worthy of your regard," Lindir murmured. "You are descended from kings and legends. I am but a mere steward who once was but a lowly housemaster."

"A housemaster and steward who has served my family for millennia," Elros reverently said. "My teacher and mentor and dear friend." He lifted his eyes to gaze at Lindir. "My heart's choice." The steward caught his breath as he espied the boundless emotion in their depths.

"You are still young," he said, stalling for time. "You will change your mind some day and rue that your first brush with love was with someone like me."

"I will not change my mind," the twin whispered. "Do you not see? I am fated for you. I would have you find your solace in my arms. Please, let me love you."

His words shattered what little remained of Lindir's resolve. He cupped the beloved face and claimed Elros' lips. Instantly, the younger Elf melted into his embrace, surrendering wholeheartedly to his kiss. Lindir groaned against the other's silky mouth, amazed at just how untouched Elladan's son was.

He drew back with an effort and stared at Elros. The young Elf's eyes were dark with newly awakened passion, his cheeks a delicious rosy hue.

"Do not stop now, Lindir!" Elros exclaimed. "If you truly love me you will make this night special for me!"

So demanding, Lindir thought with a rush of desire. He did not know whether to laugh or protest when Elros pulled him back towards the house. He was quite undone however by his soon-to-be lover's audacity as the younger Elf paused on the stairs several times to claim a myriad kisses from him. By the time they reached Elros' room, he was no longer of a mind to desist from having what was so lovingly offered to him.

Scarcely had they entered the bedchamber when he drew the willing body into his arms and reclaimed the pliant lips. Gently urging them to part, he finally savored the sweetness he had long believed strictly forbidden to him. Skillfully, thoroughly, hungrily, he plundered the reaches of that honeyed warmth while his hands roamed the slender body. He delighted in the feel of the fine muscles beneath the twin's thin shirt.

The thought of getting to know this cherished form so very intimately vanquished all remaining restraint. He drew away once more, silencing Elros' protests by reaching for the ties of the younger Elf's shirt and undoing them one by one. Color flooded the twin's cheeks when he realized what this portended. But he did not resist and remained absolutely still as he was slowly, ever so gently undressed.

When he was finally clad in naught but his skin, Lindir stood back to look at him. Elros forced himself to meet the older Elf's eyes. The passion-darkened gaze of the steward robbed him of his breath. Striving to maintain some semblance of calm, he reached out his own hands to the clasps on Lindir's tunic.

"Do I get to unwrap my present?" he shakily asked.

Lindir could not help smiling at the choice of words. He nodded, letting his hands drop to his sides while Elros set to divesting him of his garments. Layer upon layer of rich material slid to the floor. When he was done Elros looked up to survey his gift. He sucked in his breath sharply as he beheld Lindir's bared form.

"You are more magnificent than I imagined," he whispered in awe.

"Not as wondrous as you," Lindir huskily replied. "You cannot know what this moment means to me," he added, drawing Elros towards the bed. With utmost tenderness he bore the twin down, following him swiftly, melding their forms together for the first time without the barrier of clothing.

After a lifetime of denial and restraint, of loneliness and silence, Lindir poured all that he had in his heart and soul onto the beloved Elf in his arms. Skill learned in carnal exploration however shallow and empty he finally put to use in love. Mastery in seduction he diverted into tender, worshipful courtship. Elros realized with deep gratitude that he was reaping countless years' worth of knowledge and suppressed emotion.

When Lindir took him the world seemed to dissolve into nothingness save for the heat of their straining bodies, the beating of their hearts, the sounds of their increasingly shallow breaths. No passive lover despite his youth and inexperience, Elros relied on his instincts and arched up into the older Elf's thrusts, pressed his mouth against sweat-sheened skin, delighting in the tremors that rippled the sleek muscles of Lindir's shoulders and chest.

The steward gasped at the sensations wrought by the twin's caresses. Intent on prolonging the pleasure for his newly claimed lover, he clamped down hard on the urge to drive hard into the supple body beneath him and take his joy soonest. In so doing, he heightened their pleasure, leaving them both panting wildly for more.

But inevitably, inexorably, their joined bodies demanded completion. Lindir reached between them to caress his young _meleth_ and ensure his release. Elros reared in shock at the joint sensations of being stroked and filled at the same time. Sobbing, he yielded to Lindir's ministrations, uttering the steward's name as he spent himself between their slender forms. It took but a few scant seconds for Lindir to follow suit, his body pushed over the edge by the clenching of Elros' muscles around him. Pleasure so pure and profound undid him completely; he had never felt the like before. Then again, he had never shared his body in love before.

Careful not to crush Elros beneath his heavier bulk, he lay beside the young Elf, pulling him against his chest. For several moments, they were content to lie thusly, enjoying each other's close presence, murmuring words of love to each other.

At length, Elros stirred and lifted his head from Lindir's chest. "Father bade me wait until I am much older," he softly said. "But I must know now, Lindir – will you bind to me one day?"

Lindir stared at him in shock. "Elros, you are newly come of age," he protested. "A binding is for eternity."

"Which pleases me all the more," Elros smiled. "I will not demand that we bind at once. My parents would never countenance it. But I would demand a betrothal at the very least."

Lindir stroked his cheek with his knuckles. "Why so hasty, _seron vell_?"—beloved?

The twin's sparkled at the endearment. "I would like to ensure that no other will take you away from me," he said.

"Take me away?" Lindir echoed. "Who would want me so much as to attempt it?"

"You belittle your charms overmuch," Elros gently chided. "Do you not know that half the warriors of Imladris adore you?" He quickly pressed a kiss to his lover's mouth when the other stiffened. "You shared many a bed amongst them and they in turn told me of your charms. Helmir, Dirion and Meluin were especially forthcoming about you."

Lindir was speechless. "So that is why you kept company with them," he gasped at last. "You were asking them about me!"

Elros raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Of course! What did you think—?" He suddenly guffawed. "You thought my choice was one of them?" He laughed out loud, the happy sound music to Lindir's ears. "Nay, they knew what I was about and were all too glad to counsel me."

"In what matter?"

He groaned when the young Elf suddenly straddled him. "This," Elros whispered. "They told me you enjoy being ridden now and then, _meleth_."—love.

He soon proved that he was indeed Elladan's son if his instincts in love-play were any indication thereof. It was an exhausted Lindir who weakly but laughingly pulled him close in the wake of their second coupling.

"You have not given me your answer," Elros pantingly reminded him.

Lindir smiled widely, his wondrous hazel eyes bright with love and devotion. "I can think of no greater blessing than to be yours for eternity, Elros," he whispered.

With a contented sigh, Elros snuggled into his arms. Lindir turned his head and looked out the window at the starry sky beyond. Gratitude welled up within him and he silently thanked the Powers for the incomparable gift they had bestowed on him this day. He looked at his young love as the other slowly gave in to the pull of sleep. Mine at last, he thought with delight before joining Elros in peaceful slumber.

oOoOoOo

Elladan and Elrohir glanced up at the dimly lighted windows of the twins' bedchambers. They were seated at one of the tables, their respective mates leaning against them, also regarding the windows above.

"For one who was never known for moderation, you are overly concerned about your sons' activities tonight," Elrohir remarked. "Surely you expected this."

Elladan cast a jaundiced look at him; the look turned decidedly more pointed when he espied the telltale bruise above his brother's collar.

"You are fortunate you have no children to worry about," Elladan said. "Considering what you and I know about these matters, I will not deny feeling some anxiety."

Legolas, who had been nuzzling Elrohir's neck, lifted his golden head and looked wonderingly at the older twin. "Who would have thought that one as voracious as you would be rendered so anxious by this moment?"

"I had thought they would delay it at least."

"And why would they when neither you nor Elrohir did?"

Elladan sighed at this reminder of his youthful impatience. Nimeithel laughed and placed a soothing hand on his thigh.

"Knowing you, I fully expected this," she admitted. "But you are not alone in your concerns, _meleth_. I, too, hope for their felicity come morning."

Elladan smiled and held her closer, dipping his head to kiss her neck. "At least, we can be certain of someone else's felicity," he murmured against her sweet flesh.

"Aye, finally," Elrohir chuckled. He glanced up again at Elros' windows. "He is most skilled in keeping secrets."

"In that he seems to have taken after you," Legolas said.

Elrohir grinned then looked about. It was late and the celebrations were winding down. Already, Aragorn and Arwen had retired to their chamber that the queen might take her rest. Their children had followed their example. He glanced at his brother and laughed softly. Nimeithel's hand on Elladan's thigh was proving far more than soothing if her husband's obvious reaction was any indication of his state of being.

"I believe 'tis time you both retired as well, _gwaniuar_"—older twin—he teased. "There are still a number of young ones present and it will not do to frighten them with your antics."

Elladan snorted but made no protest. He simply stood up, gently but firmly pulling Nimeithel along with him.

"To bed, wife," he purred and led her back to the house.

Legolas watched them go then gasped as he felt himself firmly clutched as well. He stared at Elrohir. The Elf-knight was lazily looking at him but the depths of his mithril eyes were anything but languid.

"Revenge, Aduial?" the prince whispered a little unevenly as his need was steadily and relentlessly stoked.

A devouring kiss stole his breath away. Elrohir drew back and smiled at the results of his ministrations.

"Come, Calenlass," he cooed. "'Tis time I tended to you for more than a spell."

Glossary:  
Nínui - Sindarin for February  
Adar - Father  
Calenlass – Greenleaf  
gwenyn – twins  
Aduial - Twilight  
Edhil - Elves  
Naneth – Mother

The End

**Part 30:** Aduial: Soul of a Knight. For love of his Elf-knight, Legolas faces the hardest and most bitter test of all.


	133. Aduial 1 Into Darkness

**Summary:** For love of his Elf-knight, Legolas faces the hardest and most bitter test of all.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

**Author's Note:** WARNING! This story contains a character death. In a manner of speaking. If you choose to read on, let me assure you, this is a love story, not a tragedy. I'm a hopeless romantic and a total sucker for happy endings.

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Prologue: Into Darkness  
Gondor, _Narwain_ F.A. 88  
The chill air swathed the dimly lit chamber. Not even the bravely crackling blaze in the hearth or the sturdy wooden shutters that shut out the icy wind could dispel the uncommon frigidity of this year's winter. There were seasons like this in Gondor. Winters that were less than mild and summers that were more bracing than usual.

For a hale man, it simply meant thicker clothing and frequent spells by a warm fire. But for an ailing man, it was cruel weather. Even fatal.

Such was the case of the noble who lay bundled in layered robes of wool and slumbered fitfully beneath the thickest counterpane available. Every once in a while, his hacking coughs and pitiful gasps for breath would resonate through the room. The healer in attendance or his assistant would then lift him up and urge him to expel the foul phlegm or sputum that threatened to choke the very life out of him.

But not his lady wife. She stayed well out of the way.

She looked many years younger than him; one could easily mistake her for a woman in her fourth decade. But in truth, she was five years her husband's senior, an astonishing one and ninety years. For she was not merely of the line of the few remaining Dúnedain of Middle-earth but also a member of the elven-blooded family of the seaward princedom of Dol Amroth.

In those of Belfalas' ruling family where their elven heritage ran true, the length of life was alike to Gondor's kings--twice or even thrice the span of mortal men's years. And like Elessar and his kin, they aged only slowly, the tale of their years finally revealed towards the ends of their many days.

In Gilwen of Dol Amroth, the elven gift ran true. While her husband, though the younger, looked frail and spent and wizened, she was still in the prime of her life and would remain so for many more years.

She eyed her lord with well-concealed loathing. Never had she come to care for him; not even a whit. Her contempt for his lesser lineage, his lack of lore and learning, had steadily waxed through the years until her discontent had known no bounds. That resentment had been stoked in particular by one event that had served to blight her perceptions of her marriage and magnify in her mind all that she had missed.

Her breath caught as her thoughts turned down more carnal byways. Of a black night and a darkened room redolent with the elusive scent of northern pines and rushing streams, of sweet heather and wildflower-dappled meadows. And above her, mastering her, the fairest being she could ever have hoped to know. She had never forgotten her taking at his knowing hands; never let go of the memory of hard potent flesh spearing her, filling her utterly and relentlessly, until she had shattered under his thrall.

Gilwen's eyes snapped open, her fevered musings marred by the wretched sounds coming from the shrouded bed. She looked about and realized the healer was gone. To take his evening meal no doubt. She wondered if he had asked leave of her before departing. Most likely, she admitted. And most likely she had acknowledged him without being fully aware of doing so, deep as she had been in her delightful reverie.

No matter. She cared little for her husband or his repulsive vapors.

He began to cough once more. Barking, hacking—downright annoying! She waited for the inevitable gurgle as he pulled up the phlegm that plagued his lungs. But instead, he emitted a retching sound. In disgust, she peered across the dark room. Yes, he was vomiting. A vile stream was trickling down the side of his mouth.

Gilwen started then watched as the man she reluctantly called her lord feebly attempted to turn his head and rid his mouth of the noisome brew. But he failed. And his vomit backed down into his windpipe instead.

He gagged, then began to choke. His eyes widened in terror and desperation. But Gilwen only watched. Watched as his skin turned ashen and his lips a ghastly blue. Watched as his body convulsed in the last throes of life. Watched until he went irretrievably, eternally still. And then she smiled.

I am free, she thought with appalling joy and relief. I am rid of him. And then another thought came to mind and her eyes gleamed with gladness and wanting. A word. A name.

_Elrohir. _

Glossary  
Aduial - Twilight  
Narwain - Sindarin for January

_To be continued_…


	134. Aduial 2 SwordMates

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter I: Sword-Mates  
Ithilien, _Gwirith_ F.A. 90  
The idyllic silence of the Reunited Kingdom's fairest province was shattered by the thundering hooves of the mounts of a company of Elven warriors. The colors and markings on their standard and raiment were not of Gondor or Ithilien but of fabled Imladris in the far north.

The raven-haired Elf who led them spurred his steed to even greater speed. Though his countenance betrayed nothing of the reasons that drove him thus, his eyes, grey bordering on silver, were dark and focused with single-minded intent on some inner call. For that indeed was what drew him so swiftly and urgently across the length and breadth of the province.

_Elrohir! Come to me!_

_Almost there, Legolas! Hold on!_

With eerie precision he turned his horse abruptly down a shallow slope headed towards a vast glen obscured by trees and shrubs. His warriors followed him without question. They burst into the midst of a raging battle between fair Elven rangers and foul orkish raiders.

Though it was nearly a century since the fall of the Dark Lord, Sauron, the loathsome creatures he and his erstwhile master, the fallen Vala, Morgoth Bauglir, had bred in the Elder days still thrived in Middle-earth though their numbers were no longer as fearsome in the south as they had been when Mordor held sway over much of the region. Between the forces of the Prince of Ithilien and the warriors of the elven settlement of Eryn Gael, the Orcs had become less a deadly menace to the southern kingdom and more of an irritation in the manner of a gadfly. Of course, that did not in any way recompense either prince for the loss of lives amongst their people and they continued to battle on, their joint goal to finally cleanse Ithilien once and for all of the evil creatures.

Elrohir and his twin, Elladan, were of the same mind, oft joining the forces of Rivendell to the armies of northern Eryn Lasgalen, now ruled by Legolas' eldest brother, Melthoron, and ably defended by his other sibling, Brethildor. The Misty Mountains were not as easy to rid of the Goblins what with the range's multitude of tunnels and caves and other hiding places eminently suitable as lairs for Orcs to live and breed in. Nevertheless, that did not deter the northern elven realms in their quest to destroy as many of their enemies as possible. Besides, the brethren of Rivendell had never forsaken their vow to avenge their mother's torment at the hands of Orcs. Nor had they forgotten the grief and loneliness, particularly that of their father, Elrond, that had followed in the wake of her premature departure for the Blessed Realm to seek healing and peace.

Lopping off the head of a Goblin with a clean sweep of his blade almost as soon as he arrived, Elrohir's first instinct was to seek the silver-gold tresses of one single Elf. He soon spotted him, a lithe but deadly figure, cutting down his foes with seeming ease and effortless grace. Assured of the other Elf's immediate well-being, he turned his attention to decimating the ranks of the enemy.

With the advent of the Imladrin reinforcements, the battle did not last much longer. While the Ithilien Elves had been holding their own against the Orcs, no one objected to a swifter denouement of any kind of fighting. Pride had no place in the matter of sparing as many lives as possible.

As soon as the skirmish came to an end, Elrohir dismounted and quickly approached the golden-haired Elf he had sought earlier. Legolas, youngest prince of the Woodland Realm of Greenwood and lord of Eryn Gael, was already overseeing the task of sorting the wounded from the dead, making sure along the way that any surviving Orcs joined their slain fellows. The Elves showed no mercy to their vanquished foe, grim in the knowledge that they would be shown none or even worse should the situation be reversed. Sensing the approach of the warrior, the prince glanced up and beamed in welcome.

"You did not pass by Minas Tirith, did you?" he commented, noting the garb of the Elvenlord.

"Nay, I came straight from Imladris," Elrohir answered. "I did not wish to waste time once I heard your reply to my call."

"Strange that I can reach you in such instances despite the distance," Legolas commented. "Yet it has never been my talent."

The Elf-knight smiled. "Your urgency lends you the needed strength, _ernil nîn_"—my prince—he pointed out. He glanced around as the Elves began to drag the Orc carcasses into a pile. "I am glad I returned at this time," he commented.

Legolas nodded. "Aye, you were ever a force to contend with," he said. "But I am glad you are back for reasons other than your fearsome skills."

Elrohir smiled warmly at the prince. He reached out and clasped Legolas by the shoulder, his eyes seeking and catching the other's gaze. Legolas returned the gesture, his own lips curling into an answering smile.

The look, the touch, the smile they exchanged spoke volumes of what they did not say aloud, evincing millennia of shared friendship, trials, grief, desire, heartbreak and love. In all of Middle-earth there was no union quite like theirs, bound on virtually every level possible to Elfkind. Together they were whole, complete, everything to each other. Friends and sworn kinsmen, allies and war-brothers, lovers and mates. Mere mortals might only see two warrior Elves of long standing friendship. But _Edhil_ perceived the light of love and passion in their ageless eyes.

Elrohir regarded the heap of Orc corpses; grimaced at the sight of elven bodies being prepared for burial. Thank Elbereth there were only a few casualties on their side.

"Whither shall we go?" he queried briefly.

Legolas glanced up at the sky. The sun rode high as the morning progressed. He said, "I have sent scouts ahead to search for the Orcs' current location. In the meantime, we will set up camp not far from here. I would have you look at the wounded, Elrohir."

The Elf-knight acquiesced with a nod.

The Elves burned the carcasses of their foes then buried their fallen comrades. The morning was waning when they set off to make camp and await the scouts' return.

Noon found them by a stream that cut through one of Ithilien's tangled groves. There they washed away the gore and grime of battle and had their midday meal. After a quick bite, Legolas retreated to the tent he now shared with Elrohir. The Elf-rider had gone to the stream to bathe after having his meal.

Clad in a simple shirt and long breeches, the prince sat on his pallet and saw to the business of restringing his bow and examining his arrows for damage. He was halfway through the task when a gust of cool air told him Elrohir had entered the tent. He glanced back at the Elf-warrior welcomingly. But for his breeches and boots, Elrohir was unclothed, his raven tresses and fair skin still damp from his bath.

"You certainly took your time," Legolas said with a grin.

Elrorhir snorted. "The stench of Orc is no easy thing to dispel," he pointed out.

"Aye," the prince readily agreed. "Would that we could remove their stench from Middle-earth forever."

"They spawn like flies," Elrohir said. "I do not think we will ever be wholly rid of them. But their numbers are far less than they used to be and for that we should be thankful."

"I suppose," Legolas sighed. "But in truth, after their last incursion some twenty years ago, I'd hoped we had seen the last of them in Ithilien at least."

Elrohir shook his head. "The Misty Mountains are not free of them either. Elladan and I had much to do this past winter, hunting them down. And your brothers have been busy, too, defending Eryn Lasgalen's borders." He suddenly smiled. "But take heart, Legolas. The Orcs have taken to harassing the Easterlings more frequently than they do our lands."

Legolas chuckled. "That thought cheers me no end." His quick mirth faded. "You are right, of course. They are not as numerous as they used to be. But they are still a menace to our people and our peace as well." He let out his breath. "Will we ever have it, Elrohir?" he asked with some frustration. "True peace, I mean."

"We will. But it takes time. And many times, we have to fight first in order to win peace."

Legolas shook his head. "Mayhap we shall know it before Aragorn's reign ends," he said wistfully.

Elrohir paused then murmured, "Mayhap."

The archer looked at him, surprised at his flat tone. "You do not sound too happy at the prospect," he remarked.

Elrohir sank to his knees, returning his sword to its customary place by his pallet. "A warrior knows little of the ways of peace," he admitted. "I sometimes wonder what will become of all of us should it finally come. Why think you the fiercest of the Galadhrim chose to remain? They would rather take their chances amidst the perils of Middle-earth than retire to the placid forests of Valinor."

Legolas frowned slightly. He regarded the Elf-warrior curiously. "And you? Do you share their feeling? Will you forego the journey to the Blessed Realm?"

Elrohir glanced up, catching the slight trace of anxiety in Legolas' voice. He shook his head adamantly.

"The sea-call is strong in you. 'Tis only your oath to Estel that keeps you here," the twin replied. "But you will one day seek the western shores and I will go with you. For though I love this Middle-earth of ours, I would sooner forsake it than live an eternity without you."

Legolas smiled brightly then, the twinge of anxiety dissipating with the Elf-knight's heartfelt declaration.

"The sea-call is strong," he conceded, "but your lure is much stronger, Aduial. Wherever you are is where I wish to be."

The twilight eyes gleamed appreciatively and a small smile tugged at the edges of the twin's sinuous lips. Feeling at ease once more, Legolas turned his attention back to his task.

He was reaching for another arrow when his wrist was caught in a strong grip. At the same time, he felt his hair drawn aside to bare the back of his neck. A prickle of anticipation skimmed over his skin just before warm lips pressed against his nape, suckling lazily at the smooth flesh. He gasped at the sensation, found himself leaning back into Elrohir.

The warrior had crept up to him and now knelt behind, his body molding closely to his back, his thighs on either side of the archer's narrow hips. Legolas caught his breath as Elrohir snaked his arms around him, one encircling his shoulders, the other his waist, pulling him back into the snare of his embrace while he blessed the side of his neck with hungry kisses. The prince quivered as the twin's questing lips moved upwards to nuzzle him behind his ear.

Trying to corral his rapidly scattering wits, Legolas attempted to reason with the Elf-rider. "We are in the middle of the camp," he half-groaned. "They will hear us."

Elrohir's response was to nibble the delicate tip of one ear making the prince tremble even more violently. He was forced to brace himself by planting his palms on the Elf-warrior's sinewy thighs on either side of him.

"Let them," Elrohir murmured huskily.

Legolas closed his eyes, trying to marshal his thoughts into something coherent. He feared he was on the verge of spectacular failure.

"There-there may be Orcs lurking – nearby," he rasped as Elrohir's hand slid down from his waist to knead his inner thigh, his strokes dangerously near the juncture where leg met groin.

"I would not care if there were a hundred Orcs and a pack of Wargs outside our tent this very moment," Elrohir purred as his other hand swiftly undid Legolas' shirt.

"But – I don't – we should not—"

"You protest overmuch for one who is so ready." The hand on his thigh moved to grip him wickedly a little higher up. "So ripe."

The prince shuddered needfully. Meanwhile, his shirt was pulled none too patiently off his shoulders and down his arms. He made one last stab at rationality.

"Elrohir, _melethron_, can this not wait until after – after…" His weakly voiced plea faded into nothingness when the Elvenlord left a trail of fiery kisses across the tops of his now bared shoulders.

He felt the darkling Elf's warm breath against his ear once more whilst roaming hands mapped his torso with excruciating attention to detail. Fingers lifted to cup his cheek, compelling him to turn his head and meet the other's silvery gaze.

"It has been nigh a year since we last coupled, Calenlass," Elrohir softly growled. "Nay, I will _not_ be denied!"

He caught the archer's lips in a voracious kiss, invaded his mouth, and plundered its honeyed recesses. Legolas abandoned reason and prudence in the wake of his Elf-knight's sensual assault. He did not resist when he was borne down upon his pallet. Did not protest as the twin quickly stripped them both of their remaining clothes. Lucid thought neither formed nor registered. Not in the face of his impending ravishment.

In some things, surrender was much more rewarding than defiance. Elrohir wasted no time reclaiming him with hands and lips and tongue, his knowing attentions leaving Legolas aquiver with wanting and delight. Heated lips moved up the white column of his neck, down to the shallow cleft of his muscled chest, blessing the roseate nipples therein with sharp nips and balming laps that had the prince squealing and giggling most un-regally. Then onwards to the taut wash of his abdomen and the sensitive lines of his groin. Until finally, he felt himself swallowed whole into the warmth of the twin's mouth.

The Elf-lord had the Elven prince at his mercy for in matters of a carnal nature, his skills were unparalleled save only perhaps for his like-minded brother, Elladan. Legolas was a most able student but even he had to admit that he was oft times hard pressed to keep up with Elrohir in daring and creativity. Even now he fought a losing battle to silence himself. It was almost impossible, what with that gifted mouth suckling him with maddening thoroughness.

So it was with surprise and a little outrage that he felt Elrohir release him just when he was teetering on the edge of completion.

"Elrohir!" he seethed, his voice rough with frustration. "You cannot leave me thus!"

Elrohir grinned wickedly. "Patience, _ernilen_"—my prince—he crooned. "I do not intend to."

With disquieting deliberateness, he straddled Legolas much to the fair-haired Elf's consternation. And then, with heart-stopping audacity, he slowly sheathed his prince to the hilt.

Legolas could not hold back the hoarse cry that fled his lips as he was gloved within velvet heat. It was totally unexpected and he was so close to breaking. But the Elf-rider gave him no time to adjust to their reversed roles and proceeded to live up to his name and more besides. Completion came to the prince in a blinding starburst of sheer sensation that left him shaking within and without. He fell back limply upon the pallet, completely and profoundly drained.

Outside, the scouts had returned from their mission earlier than anticipated. Their captain, a warrior maid formerly of Lórien, met with them.

"The Orcs are camped less than two leagues from here," the lead scout reported.

"Good," the Elf-maid approved. "Prince Legolas will be pleased to hear this." But she made no move to approach his tent.

"Why do you hesitate?" another scout asked, bemused. "He needs to know this at once."

"I shall tell him later. This can wait."

"But—"

"_Later_," the captain repeated more forcefully. The scouts stared at her in surprise and puzzlement. She took pity on them and simply said, "Lord Elrohir is with him."

Comprehension settled on the other Elves' faces in an instant. Despite their understandable tension, indulgent grins graced their comely features.

"You are right," the lead scout agreed. "This can wait."

Within the tent, Legolas opened his eyes when he felt Elrohir move off him to kneel between his legs. One look at the warrior's body told him the twin had not yet had his pleasure.

"You – you have not—" he exhaustedly whispered, raising himself on his elbows and reaching out to touch the other.

Elrohir shook his head, caught him by the wrist and firmly pushed him back down. "Nay, _meleth nîn_"—my love—he cooed. "I am not done with you yet."

"You aren't?" Legolas quavered with wide-eyed apprehension.

Goosebumps arose along his arms as the twin chuckled huskily, his argent eyes glinting ominously in the dim light. Before he could guess what Elrohir had in mind, the Elf-lord made his move.

Grinning roguishly, without any warning whatsoever, he lifted the archer's hips and summarily mounted him. At the same time, he quickly clamped a hand over Legolas' mouth, stifling his strangled cry.

Legolas felt his body surging back to life. There was something incredibly erotic about being taken this way when he was too spent to do more than submit to the warrior's desire. Soon, his body thrummed and hummed with rekindled pleasure. He could not quite believe it.

Elrohir saw the shock and incredulity in Legolas' eyes; watched as they were rapidly displaced by pure, unbridled passion. It only served to inflame him further. Nothing pleased him more than to educe that utterly rapt, all-encompassing look of undiluted lust in his _bereth's_ fair countenance. It drove him wild, heated his blood, made his heart sing, heightened his senses nearly as effectively as actual physical contact.

His delving turned almost brutal as the desire to wholly possess, to claim complete ownership of his Greenleaf overcame him. He vigorously clasped and stroked the prince; caressed, bit, sucked his throat, shoulders and chest, leaving crimson stains upon the white skin. A twelve-month was simply too long a period to be parted by league upon league of Middle-earth terrain from one so beloved and desired.

The effects of his near violent ministrations were cataclysmic to say the least. The tension in their bodies swiftly built up to a near-unbearable level, heightening as their feelings surged between them along the affirming channel of their binding. Before long, neither Elf could fully suppress his impassioned gasps and feral moans. Desperate not to scandalize the warriors outside any more than they undoubtedly already were, Legolas grasped Elrohir by the nape and hauled the darkling Elf to him so that their mouths melded together with singeing ardor.

The Elf-knight swallowed his keening groan as he came to satisfaction anew and he, in turn, smothered Elrohir's as he, too, reached completion,. Afterwards, with raven and wheaten locks mingling in glorious confusion and lean limbs wantonly entwined, they drifted in and out of the sweet haze that oft followed in the wake of raging passion.

Legolas peered lazily at his mate, awed by what had just passed between them.

"You never cease to amaze me," he murmured.

Elrohir grinned back languorously. "Is that a complaint?"

"Nay," the prince smiled back. "Only a fool would complain about your considerable skills in the bedchamber. And any other place you should choose to sate your lust," he added with a shake of his head.

Elrohir chuckled. "Routine makes for tedium. I intend to spend eternity discovering every which way to pleasure your most enticing body."

"Not to mention boggle my already addled mind," Legolas retorted, his cheeks displaying a veritable riot of reds. "And everyone else who hears us," he groaned as realization struck him. "I wager we will be the foremost topic of interest over the campfires tonight!"

"What of it?" Elrohir drawled.

"I do not enjoy having my private life dissected for the entertainment of others," Legolas growled, sitting up and reaching for his clothes. "Besides, 'tis embarrassing to have everyone know how we spent the afternoon."

"Legolas, we are bound," Elrohir pointed out. "'Tis normal for us to couple." He grinned again as the prince's blushes refused to fade away. "Ai, you may be the finest archer in all Middle-earth, a warrior of great name and stature and a prince of Elves without peer yet here you are – undone by something as primal and natural as the act of love." He, too, sat up and began to dress.

Legolas sighed. "I know you think me prudish but 'twas never my way to be so open in public about this. I was taught to be discreet, to keep such things out of sight or earshot of others. As were my father's people."

Elrohir leaned over and kissed him gently. "I know, Calenlass. But you forget, most of the warriors with us right now are lusty Galadhrim. Believe me when I say that not only did they most likely approve of what we have just done but may even now be seeking partners of their own to while away the rest of the day."

At Legolas' wide-eyed stare he laughed. "You stayed for two weeks in the Golden Wood during the Quest. Surely you noticed how untroubled the Lórien Elves were by such things. After all, their homes were fair and cozy but they were not built to muffle sound."

Legolas' blushes returned. "Ah, so you _did_ notice," Elrohir grinned. "And did you spend the nights there with your face perpetually awash in scarlet?"

The prince groaned. "Gimli and I debated that," he admitted. "He called us the most licentious race in all of Arda. And in truth, after observing the Galadhrim, I was hard-pressed to gainsay him. But he was so insulting, I ended up defending all of Elfkind instead as well as I could."

Elrohir guffawed. "Poor Gimli. I still recall his expression during our binding Rites. He must have felt hopelessly beleaguered surrounded by a 'passel of confounded Elves'."

This time Legolas joined in the mirth as he remembered his Dwarf friend's discomfiture. "Aye, he vowed he would never let himself be trapped in such a situation again. He will probably keep his oath, too, until such time that we should issue another invitation requesting his august presence."

He started as he heard his captain discreetly call to him from outside. Rising, he quickly exited the tent and met with the warrior _elleth_ who apprised him of the scouts' discoveries. As she was concluding her report, Elrohir emerged from the tent, fully dressed and armed. Legolas raised an amused eyebrow.

"I see you anticipated my call to battle," he remarked.

"Of course," the Elvenlord replied. "What other reason would there be for us to be _interrupted_?"

At the suggestive choice of words by the twin, the slightest hint of color stained the prince's cheeks and the lips of the captain twitched suspiciously. Struggling for some dignity and composure, Legolas elucidated: "The scouts located the Orc encampment just two leagues northeast of here. We should come upon them by this evening but I fear we will have no time for rest this night."

Elrohir smirked. "As to that, I am already more than well rested, _melethron_."—lover.

With a smug smile, he sauntered away leaving Legolas to blush a nice shade of crimson all over again while the captain struggled heroically but not too successfully to conceal a knowing grin.

Glossary:  
Gwirith - Sindarin for April  
Edhil - Elves  
Aduial - Twilight  
Calenlass - Greenleaf  
bereth - spouse

_To be continued_….


	135. Aduial 3 Reflections

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter II: Reflections  
The soothing murmur of the pristine spring and the gentle rustling of reed and leaf and brush were all that broke the quiet of the glade. Elrohir leaned against a slender beech and breathed in the herb-scented air that was characteristic of Ithilien.

It was good to be back in the fairest province of Gondor. Back in Eryn Gael and back with Legolas. In the years since their binding, the Elf-knight had come to call this precious neck of the Ithilien woods his home; one he now missed as dearly as he had once yearned for Imladris. And missed it he had this last sojourn in the north. He had been away for close to four years.

The preceding twelve months had been the longest he'd ever spent away from Legolas in all the years of their espousal. The archer had travelled north thrice in all this time to be with him but this past year that had not been possible and they had endured their separation with much regret and longing. But he had needed the four years in Rivendell to set his affairs in order. He would not be returning to the hidden vale, the place of his birth. Never again.

He and Elladan were finally consigning Imladris to legend. Many of their people were departing for the Havens and taking ship for Valinor. The brethren, however tempted to join them, were still bound to their now mortal sister and foster king-brother. They would wait out the couple's remaining years in Middle-earth before leaving the Hither Lands forever.

To this end, Elladan had decided to move his family to Gondor for good. He and Nimeithel and their sons, Elendir and Elros, would stay on in Imladris another year before they joined Elrohir and Legolas in Ithilien. Lindir would be with them now that he was formally betrothed to the younger twin, Elros. So would Iorwen and Ailios and many of the Imladrin warriors under Daurin and Enedrion – all remaining with Elladan and Elrohir out of loyalty and friendship.

They would take ship for the Blessed Realm only after the Evenstar's leave-taking of the world. And that was not too far off in the future.

With the foresight of their kindred, the brethren had already seen the day when their foster-brother would take his last breath. Though still hale and youthful looking, Aragorn was nevertheless in his twilight years. As with Rivendell, his reign was drawing to a close and would also pass into legend. And when he joined his fathers beyond the circles of the world, Arwen would not be long in following him. Estel had ever been her reason for lingering and living. He would be her reason for ending.

Elrohir sighed. That had been a constant theme in the past few decades. Death. The loss of friends. The sorrow that came with that loss. It weighed heavily on the immortal comrades left behind.

He recalled Legolas' grief at the deaths of Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took in Minas Tirith, preceded by only a few years by the passing of Éomer King of Rohan. He and Legolas had fortunately been in residence in Ithilien when each of the Hobbits had passed from this life. But that had been of little comfort to the distraught archer.

Over the years, he had kept in close contact with all the surviving members of the Company that had set out from Rivendell on the daunting journey to destroy the One Ring. He had mourned Boromir's untimely death during the Quest for though the man had been misguided in his beliefs, he had been a valiant companion and a true-heart. Gandalf and Frodo's departure for Aman, and later Sam's, had not been painful for there had been the promise of reunion one day to succor him.

But Merry and Pippin had been the last of the Halflings Legolas had come to dote upon during the perilous and arduous months of the long dark road to Mordor. Their deaths just a little less than a decade after Sam's departure had left him deeply bereaved. Now there was only Aragorn and Gimli.

Elrohir knew Legolas dreaded Aragorn's inevitable loss. The Elven prince was paying the full price of gaining and maintaining deep friendships with mortals. For unlike the Imladrin brethren whose father had fostered Aragorn's line down through the centuries, he had not had the opportunity to live with and therefore learn to cope with the aging and eventual passing of men. Even more would he have despaired had he been compelled to witness Gimli's passing. Their friendship had grown ever stronger with the years and Legolas considered the Dwarf his closest non-Elven comrade.

At least, Elrohir and Elladan had been able to allay his fears about yet another grievous loss. They had revealed to him the knowledge they had long kept secret – their grandmother's true gift to Gimli. Knowing the stubborn Dwarf-lord, they had feared he would as much balk at it as accept it. But Legolas would most likely be able to convince his friend to take the gift and that in turn would spare him the need to bid the Dwarf goodbye. As he been forced to do with yet another good friend.

Most recently, he and Legolas had kept company with Faramir, Steward of Gondor, until his death just eight years ago. That had shocked them both. While his wife Éowyn's earlier passing had not been unexpected, his had taken them all by surprise. They had thought he would prove as long-lived for it seemed the elven heritage of his family ran true in him. But Faramir had been terribly lonely in the wake of his beloved wife's death even with his children and grandchildren about him. Sorrow and bereavement had hastened his passing rather than age or illness. He had followed Éowyn soonest rather than do without her love.

Now his son, Boromir, was Prince of Ithilien in his stead. He was not only a worthy Steward to Elessar but a close and steadfast friend of Eldarion's as well.

Just thinking of Aragorn's only son and heir brought a smile to Elrohir's somber countenance. Eldarion and his wife, Ilien, were the proud parents of three handsome sons and two comely daughters. As for his five sisters, the three older princesses, Eleniel, Romenna and Mirewen, were all happily wed and had presented Aragorn and Arwen with lovely and lively grandchildren. The fifth and youngest princess, Gilraen, named after Aragorn's mother, was a pretty and precocious nine-year-old who bid fair to be as beautiful and feisty as Arwen, while the fourth, Anóriel, was affianced to a prince of Harad, a descendant of the Edain of the Southron realm formerly referred to as Black Númenoreans.

Their betrothal was but the latest evidence of the continued peace and goodwill between Gondor and Harad. The Valar willing, that close alliance would continue long after the last of the Firstborn had left the shores of Middle-earth.

As for Legolas...

Thoughts of his golden prince warmed his heart and balmed his soul. Legolas was his reason for having chosen the path of immortality, his reason for his deep contentment and happiness. His reason for being.

The archer had given himself wholly and devotedly to his Elf-knight. Not a moment passed that they did not feel the bond of their espousal flow between them, surging and ebbing according to distance and circumstances, but never disappearing completely. He had only to reach deep into himself, to his spirit, and he would know the other's soothing presence and abiding love.

His range of vision was precipitately filled with the archer's incandescent countenance in that instant and he had to smile. He always enjoyed it when the woodland prince crept up on him and took him unawares. It meant a sudden pushing away of his various concerns and a most welcome invasion of his senses by his fair spouse's comely visage and enticing scent. Not to mention his sensual attentions.

Legolas leaned in to kiss him gently but thoroughly. For several minutes they remained as they were, their mouths clinging, arms weaving around the other, bodies pressed tightly together. While always reserved about such matters in the presence of others, Legolas had no inhibitions with Elrohir when they were alone together. He had come a long way since those days in Greenwood when the duality of elven nature had been repressed and the ancient path forbidden to the Wood-elves of that forest realm.

He drew back now, blue eyes darkening in need and love. Wordlessly, he raised his hands to undo the ties on Elrohir's jerkin. Argent eyes as dark with desire, the Elf-knight did likewise for him. Soon they were both unclad and more than ready to love each other in all senses of the word.

The soft, sweet grass of the glade was all the bedding they needed as they sank down together, bodies already molded against each other, mouths caught in a rapturous duel, hands roaming to touch and caress and possess.

_Love me, Aduial. _

_Always._

Legolas hissed in wanton need as Elrohir took him slowly and utterly. In all his years, only the Elf-knight had claimed his body and heart and spirit for his own and he had never regretted his full surrender. In their binding, he had known the bliss that came of giving one's self to another in love. And Elrohir had returned that love in fullest measure. There was nothing in this world that meant more to the prince than his darkling spouse. He looked forward to an eternity with him in Valinor.

With every measured plunge into his body and every steady stroke of his turgid flesh, exquisite sensation rippled through him, building the heady rapture that portended a shattering climax. He let go of himself, did not attempt to withhold even in part the free-flow of emotion and pleasure that swept across to Elrohir. A like wave of thought and feeling overwhelmed him and he gasped out the warrior's name. Fighting to keep from coming to completion, he moaned when Elrohir quickened his pace and deepened his thrusts, clutched almost desperately at the warrior's powerful form as he moved above him.

_Let go, Calenlass. Let me see your joy._

The gentle yet heated demand shattered what control the archer may have yet possessed. Crying out sobbingly, he explosively spilled his seed between them even as he instinctively tightened his muscles around the Elf-knight and locked his legs around his waist, drawing him as deeply as possible into his trembling body.

This fiercely passionate response proved Elrohir's undoing. Shuddering helplessly in the throes of his own completion, he sank hard into his golden mate, groaning as he spent himself in utmost rapture. Shaking hands captured his face, pulled him close for a breath-stealing spate of kisses. Their bodies sated for the moment, they now revelled in the tender fusing of their hearts.

At length, they lay quiet, Elrohir's head resting upon Legolas' chest, the archer's legs still loosely but unyieldingly wound about him, a subtle indication that he did not desire for the warrior to withdraw from him just yet. Elrohir chuckled softly.

"Will you not release me, _ernilen_?"—my prince?—he softly queried.

"Nay, _melethron_"—lover—came the whispered reply. "Never."

Another affectionate laugh. "We cannot stay thusly forever."

"More's the pity." A regretful sigh. "Would that we could stay joined longer. There is a – a wondrous closeness between us when we are coupled. To be one with you in body and heart and spirit... 'tis a feeling beyond compare. I yearn for it, my Elf-knight. Without cease."

Elrohir gazed at him in wonder. "You have never told me of this longing before, Legolas," he quietly said.

"I did not realize until late that 'twas what I desired," Legolas admitted, tracing a finger along the warrior's elegant jaw. "What I longed for."

The twin's eyes glittered. "I shall grant your desire as oft as I can," he promised. "Will the whole of tonight suffice for the present?"

Legolas stared at him. "The whole of tonight? I should very much like to see if you manage that," he conceded somewhat skeptically.

Elrohir laughed. "You shall, Calenlass," he teased. "When I am with you, 'tis remarkably easy to maintain the necessary state of potency your wish demands."

Legolas colored slightly but he grinned nonetheless, more than used to his mate's lubricious humor by now.

"_Melethen_, much as I enjoy where I am right now, I do not believe it wise to remain in this position out in the open," Elrohir mildly reminded him. "Not that I care, but _you_ would should anyone come upon us."

"No one would dare intrude on us here."

"In an emergency, someone might."

Legolas sighed and released his spouse. Elrohir was right, of course. He would be far more discomfited in such a situation than the warrior. It was one thing to be caught in each other's arms. But to have someone see him still lying beneath Elrohir and... Best not to open himself to something so embarrassing as that. He could never be wantonly oblivious enough to bear it.

The warrior rolled on his back and, drawing Legolas into the curve of his arm, coaxed him to lay his head on his shoulder. Quietly, they talked about events that had unfolded in the preceding year. Of the birth of Aragorn's newest grandchild by his daughter, Mirewen, just this very month... the creation of Gimli's latest masterpiece – an exquisite coronet of mithril for Rohan's King Elfwine... Legolas' new-found interest in ship-building and his visits to Edhellond for instruction in this worthy craft from Dol Amroth's master shipwrights... The Woodland Realm's most recent doings...

"The next time you write Melthoron, you can congratulate him for having found a mate at last," Elrohir grinned of a sudden.

"He did?" Legolas exclaimed in surprise. "Nimeithel mentioned nothing of this in her last letter."

"We found out at the same time," Elrohir explained. "During our last visit to Eryn Lasgalen just before I returned here."

"Ai, that is so like Melthoron not to inform us," Legolas muttered. "So, who is the lucky _elleth_?"—Elf-maid?

"_Ellon_." Male Elf.

For a moment, Legolas could only stare at him in shock, mouth agape in unwonted gracelessness.

"Who—?"

"Haldorn."

"Sweet Eru!" Legolas drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Haldorn? My father's most renowned warrior?"

"The very same."

"But – but he was ever against – as was Melthoron – well, that is until Elladan—"

"You are stuttering, beloved. Slow down and don't forget to breathe."

Legolas closed his eyes and pressed his face against Elrohir's chest for several seconds, trying to restore order to his muddled thoughts. After a while, he looked up again.

"Who would have thought he would take my path?" he said in amazement. "Even after our binding, I know he remained uncomfortable with my choice."

Elrohir said gently: "Mayhap they could deny their hearts no longer."

Legolas nodded. "Mayhap. I wish him and Haldorn well." He shook his head in mingled amusement and bemusement. And then he looked at Elrohir in sudden recollection of something. "Ah, before I forget, did Aragorn send word to you? He and Arwen are holding a feast this June in celebration of the birth of Mirewen's latest child. Will Elladan and Nimeithel be here?"

"Aye, they will come to Gondor for the occasion then return to Imladris for another year before joining us here for good."

Legolas gazed at his mate curiously. "Will you miss Imladris?" he murmured.

"As much as you miss Eryn Lasgalen," Elrohir softly said. "But as I told you before, Legolas, my home is where my heart is. You are my heart and always will be."

The sapphire eyes gleamed in pleasure. "So you have," he whispered. "And I will never tire of hearing you say so." He raised himself slightly and leaned down to kiss his Elf-knight with all the tenderness and fervor of a besotted lover.

The kiss could not remain just so. Not after the prolonged separation they had endured. It was another hour or so before they were at last ready to part their bodies anew. Elrohir smiled and, rising, pulled Legolas to his feet as well.

"Come, my Greenleaf, let us bathe before we go back," he cooed. "Else every Elf we meet will know what passed between us." He stroked the archer's already starting to stain cheeks and laughed softly. "I would not have you use up your life's worth of blushes. And so prettily do you do so at that."

"Watch your tongue, _Edhel!_"—Elf!—Legolas objected indignantly. "I will not have you use that word on me. What am I? A virginal Shireling?"

"Nay, but you could pass for one with your so very charming inhibitions!"

Their spell in the spring was a spirited one, needless to say.

Glossary:melethen – my love  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	136. Aduial 4 Sins of the Past

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter III: Sins of the Past  
Gondor, _Nórui_ F.A. 90  
They went to Minas Tirith with that typical sense of elation and reluctance they always felt whenever they travelled to the Guarded City. The elation stemmed from the prospect of being with close kin and kith again. The reluctance came of the need to be circumspect. To pretend they were nothing more than the closest of friends.

Apart from the elven communities still extant in Middle-earth, only a select and trusted handful of mortals knew of their relationship. Aside from the continued human aversion to same-kind lovers there was also the political aspect to deal with. In spite of all his years of selfless service to Gondor, there were still Men who saw Legolas as a threat to their own ambitions and would do anything to limit the archer's influence on Elessar whether directly or through the king's foster-brothers. As such both Elves maintained secrecy regarding their espousal. It was either that or risk a tide of misguided reprisal against Legolas, which in turn would lead to Elrohir forsaking Gondor as well. As neither wished to abandon the realm and its king, both adhered to a policy of discretion when it came to their relationship.

Not that Elrohir took the constraint meekly. He pushed the boundaries of said discretion and flaunted his friendship with the Greenwood prince if not their love. And even then, he frequently tested the limits to which he could show his affection for the golden-maned Elf. As he once pointed out to Legolas when the latter chided him, what was the use of putting up with Men's absurd notions about elven traditions and practices if they did not occasionally take advantage of them? But even he knew the limits. And observed them albeit grudgingly.

They were soon joined in the City by Gimli who came post-haste from Aglarond to be with his old friends again in so joyous an event. Elladan and Nimeithel followed shortly but not their twins. Elendir and Elros had chosen to spend the summer in Eryn Lasgalen with their uncles, Melthoron and Brethildor. It would most likely be their last opportunity to live for an extended period of time in their mother's homeland.

The occasion was, for all intents and purposes, supposed to be an exclusive one. The guests were limited to family, good friends and Gondor's most loyal vassals. But since it was the king's grandchild in question, the feast could hardly be a small, intimate gathering. Granted, the venue for it was the smaller main hall of the White Tower rather than vast Merethrond. But while the number of guests was not counted in the thousands, neither was it less than a couple of hundreds.

The Elves did not mingle overmuch with the other guests but remained for the most part by the royal couple. However, they did lend their grace and charm when and where needed. Gimli, too, chose to stay by them though he also kept company with many of the human friends he had made over the years.

Legolas smiled amiably as the Prince of Dol Amroth, crossed his path. The Elf-prince fondly recalled the man's grandfather. He had not allowed the past to get in the way of friendship with Imrahil's son and successor and had even been amongst the guests when Elphir wed a second time. Elrohir had not been as warm but remained gracious and civil nevertheless. Legolas smothered a grin at the memory of the Elf-knight's lingering suspicions of Elphir's intentions but felt gratified just the same that the warrior had been so possessive of his regard.

He looked fondly at Elrohir as the latter sauntered back to him after hearkening to Aragorn's summons on some matter or another. Beside him, Elladan and Nimeithel were deep in conversation with Gimli about the Dwarf's latest improvements to Aglarond. He was half listening to their discussion and half keeping an eye on Elrohir when a woman suddenly slipped in front of the Elf-warrior, hindering his progress. Legolas' breath caught. It was Gilwen.

Elrohir nearly cursed when he was summarily cut off by this woman with whom he had lain but once more than three score years ago. He forced himself to greet her politely though his manner was blatantly less than welcoming or willing. To no avail. Gilwen was either too obtuse or too persistent to take note of his reticence. Elrohir barely stifled the impulse to glower at her. He vexedly complained in silence that she of all folk should be so long-lived and therefore such a constant bother to him.

In Gilwen the elven blood that flowed in the veins of the ruling family of Dol Amroth ran true. Like Eldarion's wife, Ilien, Gilwen was long-lived and aged only slowly. Though past ninety, she looked little more than a mortal female in her late thirties or early forties. She had grown from a pretty girl into a handsome woman.

Elrohir felt the usual prickle of discomfort whenever he encountered her. It was some seventy years since he had misguidedly spent one night with her. To him it had been but an insignificant tryst designed to assuage the frustration and anger he'd felt at the time. But it was quite apparent that, to her, it had meant much, much more.

Every time they met, she cast covetous eyes upon him, her gaze practically screaming to him how much she longed for his company once more. In a bid to discourage her from hoping for anything more than a polite word from him, Elrohir had taken pains to avoid being alone anywhere with her. But now, he could not evade her lest it be misconstrued as outright rudeness to a lady. Smiling tightly, he courteously responded to her attempts to converse with him but remained ready to escape at the first opportune moment.

Gilwen was babbling to him about how much she had missed talking to him, how she had never forgotten his kindness to her, how she had endured her loveless marriage by recalling that one oh-so-special night with him. Elrohir inwardly winced at her almost girlish delight, so at odds with her more mature appearance. That she still desired him was more than obvious. Thank the Powers that she was married and could not openly act upon that desire unless he reciprocated. And that he was not about to do.

"But all my waiting is done now, my lord," she was saying, happiness shining in her eyes. "I am no longer fettered. I may act upon my desires at long last."

Elrohir blinked bemusedly. "How so, my lady?" he asked distractedly.

"Did you not know? My husband passed away two years ago. I am free, my lord!"

Elrohir just managed to smother a gasp of muted horror. There was no mistaking the intent behind her so joyfully uttered announcement. He flicked a glance at his companions all of whom had abruptly fallen silent at her words.

The Elvenlord took in the expectant gaze of the woman opposite him. With an apprehensive sigh, he held her gaze and quietly said," But I am not, my lady."

It took her a moment to comprehend his terse answer. Then her eyes widened disbelievingly.

"Nay, it cannot be," she almost exclaimed. "I have waited so long, this cannot be!" Sudden tears began to trickle down her suddenly ashen cheeks. She began to cry, drawing the attentions of other nearby guests. "Please, tell me this isn't true."

"I am sorry, _hiril nîn_"—my lady—Elrohir replied.

"Who?" she demanded.

Elrohir hesitated. He had no worries that she would not understand his relationship with Legolas. Her family was descended from an Elven foremother after all. But he could not be certain how she would react to the discovery that he had bound himself to the Elf-prince who was still regarded with envy by many nobles in Gondor. There was no guarantee she would hold her tongue and that would only make things uncomfortable for Legolas. In the end, he merely shook his head.

She was sobbing uncontrollably now and guests were beginning to crane their necks to see what the commotion was all about.

"My lady, I think it would be best for you to return to your chamber," Elrohir softly suggested.

She became aware of the attention she was attracting. Flushing with embarrassment, she scooped up her skirts and hurried from the hall. Only then did the others join the younger twin. Legolas wordlessly placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Other than Legolas, only Elladan knew of his one-night tryst with Gilwen. But Nimeithel and Gimli were perceptive enough to draw their own fairly accurate conclusions as to what may have once passed between the younger twin and the mortal woman. However, they did not try to confirm their suppositions but only joined Legolas and Elladan in silently imparting their succor and understanding to the Elf-knight

The uncomfortable silence was finally broken by Gimli who refused to let the incident mar their merriment. "And you wonder why I refuse to wed!" he gruffly remarked. "'Tis a dangerous business, love is. And, if I may add, there is such a thing as being too handsome for your own good, my good Elves. Look at the trouble it causes!"

His timely humor lightened the mood considerably. Elrohir smiled faintly. "Thank you, my friend," he said. He glanced at Legolas apologetically. "I am sorry, Calenlass," he murmured.

Legolas shook his head. "'Tis hardly your fault that she desires you," he softly replied. "You have always been irresistible, _melethron_."—lover.

The others laughed while, with darkened _mithril_ eyes, Elrohir promised his golden prince proper recompense for his support after the feast. After a few more jests, most of them at the rueful younger twin's expense, they were able to put the awkward incident behind them and enjoy the festivities.

oOoOoOo

It was near the midnight hour when Gilwen left her chamber and made her way to the corridor of the royal apartments. She was not yet recovered from the evening's disappointment.

Even now she did not know what she hoped to accomplish in seeking out Elrohir. But the wild thought had come to her that surely the Elf-lady who owned his heart would not mind if she, Gilwen, stole just a few moments with him. After all, the other had all of eternity to possess the Elf-warrior. Surely she would not begrudge Gilwen the few moments she might hope to share with Elrohir.

The thought grew and took hold in her mind. It drove away her despair and gave her renewed hope. By the time she came to his door she was full of resolve.

She opened the door and slipped into the darkened sitting room. In the bedchamber beyond, golden light flickered from the fire in the hearth. Gathering her robe to her body, she made to approach, thinking to surprise the Elf-lord and mayhap persuade him to let her warm his bed this night.

She crept to the door of the bedchamber and peeped into the room. Strange. No one was there. But clothing lay strewn upon the floor, as if they had been removed hastily and flung down helter-skelter, the owners in a hurry to be rid of them. She heard low voices and realized they emanated from the bathing chamber. Gilwen snuck up to the arched doorway of the bathing chamber and peered in.

The oversized bath was filled with steaming water. Elrohir leaned back against one side of the tub, his eyes closed as he let the warm water soothe his senses. Another Elf took up the opposite end of the bath. It was Prince Legolas.

Gilwen was not appalled to find them together. Shared baths were common among the men of Gondor; many made good use of Minas Tirith's public baths. And the few who had the luxury of private bathing chambers within their own homes were certainly not averse to sharing theirs with close kith or kin. What she did feel was disappointment anew at not finding the darkling Elf alone.

She was about to retreat in frustration when Legolas partially rose and moved forward to settle himself before Elrohir, an oval of herb-scented soap in his hand. Quietly, gently, he bathed the warrior's torso, his hands plying the lather over the taut muscles beneath his fingers. Gilwen stopped to watch, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of her stomach.

There was something about the Elf-prince's actions that disturbed her. It was one thing to scrub the back of one's bathing companion for after all it was difficult to thoroughly wash what was largely beyond one's reach. But what Legolas was doing seemed inordinately intimate.

But perhaps she was making too much of the gesture, she chided herself. After all, they were Elves and the Firstborn had many customs that seemed quite strange to Men. She watched as the archer rinsed the lather off the twin's body. Elrohir remained quite still, his languid smile showing his appreciation of Legolas' ministrations. Yes, Gilwen assured herself, 'twas only the prince's desire to give ease to his friend.

But just as she began to feel her discomfort start to dissipate, Legolas leaned over Elrohir and claimed his mouth in a long, ardent kiss. The flutter in Gilwen's belly stilled and turned into a dead weight. She hastily stifled a gasp as the blond archer proceeded to let his lips trail over the dark-haired Elf's glistening throat, shoulders and chest. His hands slipped beneath the water, their intent quite clear when Elrohir sucked his breath in shudderingly then arched visibly into their touch. Gilwen could only stare in shock.

As Elrohir had correctly surmised, Gilwen was not ignorant of the duality of elven nature though she had never felt it in herself. It seemed to be a phenomenon that affected only the men of her family. Nonetheless, she had never witnessed such a pairing before, not even amongst her kinsmen who conducted their affairs with considerable discretion. She was understandably stunned at this first sight of intimacy between two _ellyn_.

Oddly enough, instead of worrying her, it reassured her in her desperate musings. Of a sudden, she thought she understood. He had said he was not free. Was that because he could not deny the Elven prince? Mayhap he was compelled to submit to the other Elf!

With a smirk, Legolas drew back slightly. The Elf-knight's eyes slowly opened. She watched as Legolas idly turned his back on the Elvenlord; she could not quite hear what he said but his gesture made it clear he had asked the latter to help him wash his back. Elrohir did as he was bid, his hands moving over the archer's pale back, massaging the sleek muscles as he did. Gilwen felt her assumptions more than validated. Relief in this conclusion mingled with indignation at Legolas for forcing himself upon the twin.

But just then, Elrohir suddenly pulled Legolas backwards to settle between his legs so that the prince sat on the edge of the embrasure with his back flush against the Elf-lord's chest. Elrohir's hands snaked around and began to ostensibly soap the archer's chest and abdomen. But his actions were no more innocent than Legolas' had been earlier. There was no mistaking the intent of his kneading, stroking, searching fingers as the archer's breathing quickened and roughened.

One hand purposefully dipped into the water. In the next instant, Legolas gasped and nearly reared up but the warrior pulled him back with his encircling arm and trapped him against his chest. The prince could do little more than writhe in his embrace, breathing raggedly as he did. There was no mistaking what Elrohir was doing to him under cover of the water.

Gilwen froze in horrified disillusionment. In that moment, all her carefully marshaled arguments came tumbling down around her. Elrohir's desirous expression, his very actions belied all her assumptions about his relationship with Legolas. It announced quite clearly that he owned the woodland prince as much as the prince owned him.

Rooted to the spot, she could only stare as Elrohir coaxed Legolas to slightly rise then pulled him back down onto his lap. The prince's expression graphically indicated the moment of their bodies' joining, as did the low, gasping groan that escaped Elrohir. They began to move in counterpoint against each other, feral sounds spilling from their lips. The Elf-knight's hand vanished beneath the surface of the water again. The renewed underwater assault drove the prince wild.

Legolas was riotously torn between the need to press down onto Elrohir's impaling length and the urge to buck into his stroking hand. Convulsively gripping the sides of the bath, he half-laughed, half-sobbed helplessly as the Elf-knight intensified his ministrations.

The widow had to clap a hand hard over her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping her lips. Grief threatened to overtake her. Yet she could not move or tear her eyes away from the two Elves.

Elrohir skillfully brought his mate to the very brink of fulfillment. The prince had thrown his head back, his hair spilling about the twin's shoulder like molten gold. When he knew Legolas was at the end of his endurance, Elrohir wickedly sucked the sensitive flesh where the archer's neck met his shoulder. Legolas shuddered violently with sudden release, pushed down brutally on the source of his rapture, the warrior's name emitting hoarsely from his lips. That in turn pushed Elrohir over the edge. He drove up hard into the prince as his own culmination overtook him.

It took a few moments before either Elf could form coherent thought. Finally, Legolas raised himself off Elrohir and sat by his side. With a sated sigh, he laid his fair head upon the twin's chest. Lazily, Elrohir reached up to stroke the silky locks.

After a few quiet moments, the Elf-knight slipped a finger beneath the prince's chin and lifted it gently. He smiled as his Greenleaf raised his eyes to meet his. The smile that answered him beckoned. He lightly suckled at the prince's lips, educing a tender kiss in return.

That more than their earlier coupling reduced Gilwen to despair. She could pretend that their intimacy stemmed from mere lust. After all, Elves were known to be the most passionate race in Middle-earth. But their shared smiles, their gentle kiss, spoke of something much deeper than mere physical desire. Trust. Devotion. Love.

They were murmuring to each other. Gilwen strained to hear what they were saying. Though she was not that fluent in Sindarin she did know enough to understand some words now that it was quiet and she could hear them clearly.

"_Melin chen, Calenlass nîn_." I love you, my Greenleaf.

"_A im le, Aduial_." And I, you, Twilight.

She backed away, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. It was not fair! She had waited so long for the chance to claim Elrohir. Why had the fates seen fit to give him to the Elven prince instead? Shaking with agony and slowly dawning fury, her first impulse was to get back at the fair archer by letting all Gondor know of his relationship with the Elf-knight. It would effectively make it difficult if not downright impossible for Legolas to return to Minas Tirith; indeed it might even force him to leave Gondor completely and return to his northern realm.

But mounting reason also made her realize that such an outcome would only cause her further pain. For Elrohir would surely choose to stand by his lover even if it meant forsaking Gondor. She would lose the dubious comfort of seeing the Elf-lord even from afar.

Confused, caught between anger and despair, she slipped out the way she had come and fled to the perfidious sanctuary of her lonely room.

oOoOoOo

Legolas slowly opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at the faint morning sunlight that streamed through the window. He stretched with cat-like languidness and made to rise to a sitting position. An arm curled around his waist and pulled him back down against the naked warmth of the body behind him.

"Do not leave me yet," came the low, huskily spoken request.

The prince smiled and lazily turned over to gaze at his still drowsy Elf-knight.

"I was not," he murmured. "What made you think I was going to?"

Elrohir shrugged. "Well, you always ensure that we never stay together past dawn while in the City," he said softly.

"You know why."

"Mm, aye." Elrohir frowned. "I long for the day when we can come to Minas Tirith and lie abed together till late without worrying about being seen by the wrong people."

To his delight and bemusement, Legolas promptly burrowed into his embrace, tucking his flaxen head into the crook of his neck.

"Why not now?" Legolas grinned at the darkling Elf's surprise. "After last night's festivities, I doubt anyone will be lucid enough to notice me sneaking back to my room."

Elrohir mock-scowled. "And here I thought 'twas my inimitable charm that had persuaded you to stay."

"But your inimitable charm is the reason I am here in the first place," Legolas pointed out. He raised his head and smiled rakishly at his spouse. "'Tis the reason I ended up between the sheets with you long before 'twas proper," he teased.

Elrohir had to grin at that. "A golden prince with a golden tongue," he chuckled. Then he sobered and murmured: "Whatever did I do to win you, Legolas?"

Fine eyebrows rose in unison. "After all these years, do you still ask that?" the archer queried curiously.

"Of course," Elrohir replied, his eyes growing tender. "I never cease to ask myself how I was fortunate enough to attain a treasure such as you." He reached up and stroked the prince's sculpted jaw. "I never want to forget how blessed I am to have gained your love."

Legolas swallowed hard, moved by his mate's utterance. "And after all these years, you still fill me with awe at the depth of yours," he whispered. "And make me wonder what I did to deserve it."

He kissed the Elf-knight deeply and lingeringly, urgently pressing his body against Elrohir's tall frame, then moving atop him and nudging the long legs apart that he might rest between them. The kiss grew more heated and intimate until they were gasping needfully against each other's mouths.

"We may end up lying abed till noon if we do not stop now," Elrohir warned in between kisses though he did not sound particularly concerned.

"I do not care," Legolas thickly replied before engaging him in another passionate caress.

Inflamed by the archer's uncharacteristic lack of caution, Elrohir rolled them over and proceeded to put the morning to good and most satisfying use.

When Legolas finally emerged from the Elf-warrior's chamber it was just a few minutes short of the lunch hour. He slipped out, quiet as a wraith, and returned unseen to his own room. Thirty minutes later, he met up with Elrohir in the dining hall. As was their custom, they took the midday meal in the main dining hall of the White Tower instead of joining the King and Queen in the private alcove in the residential pavilion where they had most of their meals. This practice served to blunt any talk that Legolas was too much in the bosom of the royal family.

So well did they conceal their true feelings that no one was the wiser that they'd spent the entire night and morning in each other's arms. No one that is save one who now bitterly regretted the knowledge.

Gilwen watched them from under heavy, reddened lids. She knew with fresh awareness that behind the friendly banter and seemingly innocent gestures and touches lay passion and devotion the likes of which she had never experienced in all her life.

What she would give to know but a fragment of such bliss even for one brief moment in time. She did not yet realize the lengths to which she would go to achieve such a dream or the depths she would descend to fulfill it.

Glossary:  
Nórui - Sindarin for June  
ellyn – male Elves  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	137. Aduial 5 End of an Era

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IV: End of an Era  
Minas Tirith, _Gwaeron_ F.A. 120  
Legolas stood before the window looking out to the west, his eyes bright with unshed tears. Today they had laid to rest Gondor's latest king, perhaps her greatest. And a new one now ruled in his place.

_The lives of Men are but seasons to the Firstborn. _

The summons had come to them in the early hours of two days ago. They had ridden swiftly to Minas Tirith, he and Elrohir and Elladan and a visiting Gimli. Aragorn had only awaited their arrival before proceeding to the Hallows where he had lain himself down upon the bed prepared for him.

Legolas had been shocked by his appearance, unused as he was to the swift waning of the Dúnedain at the end of their lives. Faramir had not reached the true culmination of his life when he died and he and Elrohir had been in Imladris when Imrahil passed away. Therefore, unlike the brethren, he had no previous experience of this sudden passage from young to aged.

Aragorn had not been wizened or bent as lesser men were though in recent years, streaks of grey had appeared in his black hair, as had faint lines in his noble face. Now his hair was silvered and the lines had deepened. He still looked strong and majestic and his comeliness had not been diminished in any way; merely altered. But so long had been his life and lengthy the years of his youthful appearance that the Elf-prince found it difficult to believe that he had indeed left youth behind and would eventually leave life as well.

They each had spoken with him at the last. To his daughters he had given his final blessings, to Eldarion his last words of love, his counsel and his crown. Words had not passed between him and Gimli; only a heartfelt grip of their hands. And then it had been Legolas' turn.

He had long thought he would not be able to endure this day. Yet now that it was here, he found that he could. He looked upon his old friend and king with sadness and some confusion. Aragorn understood his mixed feelings.

"I will miss you terribly, Aragorn," Legolas whispered. "After all we went through together... Gondor will not be the same without you. I cannot—" He faltered then, tears stinging his eyes, and found his hand caught in a surprisingly strong grip.

"For so long as you have your Elf-knight's love, you will endure anything, Legolas," he gently told him. "He is your strength and the font of your forbearance."

"Aye, he is," Legolas murmured, glancing in Elrohir's direction.

"Take good care of him, Prince of Greenwood," Aragorn said. "He is the greatest treasure you will ever have the good fortune to possess." Legolas was startled by the sudden twinkle in the dimmed eyes. "And had I been an Elf, I might very well have competed with you for his affections."

Legolas could not help chuckling at that. He smiled gratefully at the erstwhile Ranger who had ruled Gondor wisely and lovingly for one hundred and twenty years.

"Farewell, _meldiren_"—my friend—he murmured before giving way to Elladan and Elrohir.

With Gimli at his side, he had watched from a respectful distance as they bid their Estel goodbye, unashamed of the tears that streaked down their cheeks. At the last, each had grasped the king's hands and raised them to their lips. And then Elrohir had gazed into Aragorn's eyes and his own had widened. He glanced at his brother and then at Arwen uncertainly. But when neither protested whatever it was that had passed between them in that exchange of gazes, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his foster brother's lips.

Legolas had been surprised by that. But he had also immediately comprehended the significance of the gesture. In Aragorn, the duality of his elven forebears had existed but had never been allowed full expression. That had not been his destiny and his Elven family had taken pains to direct him down the road for which he had been fated even before his birth. This final show of affection was but an acknowledgement of what might have been had his destiny been otherwise.

With the brethren's farewells done, they had left the King and Queen alone together. What was spoken between them, Legolas did not know though he supposed Arwen would confide her husband's last words to her brothers. They were together now in Aragorn's study, the twins consoling their sister in her bereavement.

He had retreated to his bedchamber to await Elrohir. He thought back on the past three decades. The last of Aragorn's long and eventful reign.

The most far-reaching aspect of Aragorn's legacy would be the peace he had attained for his kingdom. He had finally succeeded in forging treaties with the majority of the men of Rhûn, thus reducing to negligible the conflicts Gondor had with the Easterlings. The orcs of the south had been all but eradicated while the goblins that had infested the mountains of the north had been so diminished that their numbers were no longer much of a threat. And the alliance with Harad had been strengthened further by the marriage of his daughter, Anóriel, to her Southron prince.

Another achievement had been the restoration of Osgiliath. Now fully rebuilt, the city that straddled the Anduin was still sparsely populated. But it was coming alive again and more swiftly as the years passed. Already, its central district was bustling with commerce and many nobles had begun to reside once more within its walls. The next generation of Men would reap the full benefits of Elessar's bountiful efforts.

The final fifteen years of his rule had been marked by utter quiet and contentment. It was a prosperous realm he had bequeathed to his only son. Legolas knew that Eldarion would continue in his father's footsteps. He prayed that so would his sons and sons' sons after him.

He heard the door open and footsteps approach him from behind. Strong, slender arms encircled his shoulders and a kiss was pressed against the side of his neck.

Elrohir sighed heavily. "Estel is hardly cold in his tomb yet we must plan Eldarion's coronation. And we must do it soon that my sister may witness it before she departs from Gondor."

Legolas frowned. "Arwen is leaving?"

Elrohir nodded somberly. "Her grief is too great. She cannot bear to remain here with all the memories of Estel. She leaves as soon as Eldarion is crowned king."

"Where will she go?"

"Lothlórien." Elrohir sighed. "Elladan and I will accompany her up to its borders. She refuses to let us go any further and will not even accept our offer to remain with her until her passing. Ai, _Adar_ was right. This is proving harder for Arwen than she ever expected."

"But who will be with her when her time comes?" Legolas murmured. "The Evenstar should not be alone when she passes away."

"'Tis her choice," Elrohir said simply yet in his words lay all his sorrow for the eventual loss of his only sister.

Legolas turned in Elrohir's arms and faced the grieving Elf. "It may sound unfeeling of me to say this now but I am grateful you chose to be of Elf-kind," he whispered. "I do not know what I would do if we had to part."

Elrohir smiled through his tears. "I once thought that an eternity in Aman would be much too tame for me to bear," he said. "But now I look forward to that eternity with you, _melethron_."—lover. He grinned crookedly at Legolas. "Think you Master Gimli will agree to join us?"

"He will say nay," Legolas replied. "But I believe I can persuade him."

"How so?"

"With an enticement. There is a certain lady whom he will not be able to resist seeing again."

Elrohir squinted at him curiously. "And which lady is this?" he asked.

"The Lady of the Golden Wood herself."

Elrohir gasped. "Grandmother?" He was torn between shock and hilarity.

"Aye," Legolas grinned. "He verily treasures the three strands of hair she gifted him with though he knows not the significance of it."

Elrohir shook his head, amazed. He looked at Legolas and suddenly smiled. He drew the prince into his arms for a crushing embrace.

Legolas gasped then laughed and embraced him back. "What is this for?"

"I am only so grateful for you, my golden prince," Elrohir whispered.

oOoOoOo

The initial days after Elessar's passing were subdued to say the least. While all went about their appointed tasks dutifully, there was little cheer or enthusiasm. Even Eldarion remained sorrowful and less than eager to take up the reins of his rule. He had loved his father deeply.

But his coronation came to pass soon enough. It was held on the Pelennor before the gates of the City. Eldarion had decreed that he would be crowned not in the High City but on the sprawling plain before Minas Tirith, witnessed by all the people he would rule. Here the mantle of leadership was formally turned over to Aragorn's son and here an era officially ended even as another began.

Legolas watched the proceedings with mingled sadness and rejoicing. Behind him were Nimeithel, the twins, Elendir and Elros, and Lindir. At his side were Elrohir and Elladan. Flanking them were several Elven warriors led by Daurin. All the Elves were clad in white and silver and on the brows of those who were of noble blood were the silver or _mithril_ coronets of their stations. They were a vision to behold, beautiful beyond belief.

People stared at them, committing to memory the fair faces, the tall slender forms and the exquisitely rendered raiment. This would be the last time an event of note in Gondor would be adorned by such ethereal charm and otherworldly beauty. After this day, the Firstborn would no longer walk the streets of the City or grace its halls.

Legolas could sense that Elrohir was striving to control the storm of emotions that threatened to express itself in tears. The archer could only imagine what the Elf-knight was feeling. He had buried the brother he'd had a hand in raising from near infancy, the most beloved of all the fosterlings the Peredhil had taken under their protection. Now he was witnessing yet another beloved child turned warrior prince become king. At least, he would be spared the burden of laying Eldarion to rest as well.

Surreptitiously, he took Elrohir's hand and squeezed it consolingly. Gleaming argent eyes met his gratefully for an instant before Elrohir was summoned along with Elladan for their part in the ceremony. Legolas felt his own eyes blur as Elladan handed unto Eldarion the scepter of Annuminas and Anduril, the reforged sword of the king's forefather, Elendil, while to Elrohir fell the honor of placing the winged crown of Gondor upon his nephew's head. He glanced at Arwen who stood opposite him. She was succored by Ilien, her law-daughter, the new Queen of Gondor.

Arwen had altered startlingly since Aragorn drew his last breath. Though still possessed of the breathtaking beauty of memory, it was no longer a warm, vibrant loveliness but cold and remote. It was almost as if she was no longer a part of the world but merely an image of what once was. Grief had swiftly taken its toll on her. Legolas sensed she would not long out-live her husband.

It was then, as he was scanning the faces of the ladies of the court around Arwen and Ilien, that Legolas saw her. Lady Gilwen was looking directly at him, her eyes gleaming oddly. Legolas wondered at her expression with unease.

The Queen's cousin had become one of her ladies-in-waiting a few years after her husband's death. It had been a move encouraged by her kinfolk. A move designed hopefully to curtail the rumors of infidelity that had tainted her name during her marriage and followed her into her widowhood. It was known in Dol Amroth that she had not been a chaste wife, particularly when her lord began to age ahead of her. And after his death, rather than marrying again, it was said that she had taken lovers instead.

Such behavior was frowned upon by the ruling family of the seaward princedom. Its members were staunch believers of the inviolability of the vows of matrimony. Open promiscuity by unwed persons was considered undesirable as well. If one had to indulge one's self, one ought to conduct one's self with discretion and dignity and spare others the discomfort of witnessing such wantonness.

A lady-in-waiting had to follow certain rules of deportment and that included chaste behavior. And so, the widow had been duly taken in by her cousin in the hopes of correcting her errors. But that had meant her constant presence at court and that had not been to Elrohir's liking at all.

He harbored no sense of guilt where she was concerned. But neither did he enjoy being ogled with such futile longing as she exhibited even in the presence of others. It was irritating to say the least considering that he had made it absolutely clear to her that he had no interest in her or her company. To get around the problem, the warrior had lessened his visits to Minas Tirith and oft persuaded Aragorn and Arwen and their family to come to Ithilien instead. But he never told them the reason behind this recent preference. He had not wished to have it known that he may very well have been the first in the string of extra-marital lovers she'd had through the years.

She continued to stare at Legolas with that odd look in her dark eyes. When Elrohir came back to his side, she regarded the twin in that familiar yearning manner then turned her attention to Legolas once more. And then she dropped her gaze to his hand. The hand that had instinctively reached out to clasp the Elf-knight's briefly in support and affection. It struck Legolas then.

She knows about us, he thought with shock. Yet she has never betrayed our secret. Why?

Glossary:  
Gwaeron – Sindarin for March  
Adar – Father

_To be continued_…


	138. Aduial 6 Farewell to the City of Kings

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter V: Farewell to the City of the Kings  
Well into the feasting at Merethrond that evening, Legolas continued to wonder about Gilwen and her motives. It was not that he feared exposure at this late date. It would affect him little now that his and Elrohir's time of abiding in Middle-earth was all but done. But he could not help being curious as to why she had not revealed them when it may have benefited her to do so.

He was just returning to the other Elves' company after a brief discussion with Boromir when she suddenly accosted him. He looked at her warily. Her eyes were glittering with girlish elation. An incongruous sight in her mature countenance. The signs of her long years had finally begun to show themselves in the stray strands of grey in her dark hair and the slight wrinkles in her once smooth brow and around her mouth.

"Prince Legolas, I beg a moment of your time if you please," she said.

Legolas acceded courteously. "Of course, my lady," he replied.

"Am I to understand that you are not accompanying Queen Arwen to Lórien tomorrow?" she asked.

Legolas shook his head. "I am returning to Ithilien. Only her brothers and a small company of warriors are escorting her thence."

"And a group of her ladies," Gilwen added.

Legolas was somewhat taken aback. "I was not aware of that," he admitted.

"My cousin did not deem it proper for Queen Arwen to travel unattended by any save men-at-arms. She insisted that a few women go with her." Gilwen paused. "I am to be part of Queen Arwen's retinue."

A chill ran up Legolas' spine. Gilwen? To travel with Arwen to Lórien? To be in close proximity to Elrohir for the length of the journey to and fro? He looked hard at the widow, suspicion flaring with every passing second.

"Why have you approached me, _hiril_?"—lady?—he asked tersely.

"I know of your relationship with the Lord Elrohir," she said.

"Aye, you made that quite clear this morning."

"Doubtless you were surprised that I never exposed you."

"I will not deny that."

Gilwen smiled faintly. "My reasons were not altogether altruistic," she honestly said. "If I held my tongue, 'twas because I had no desire for him to withdraw completely from Gondor." She locked gazes with the Elf-prince. "I feel about him as you do. I cannot conceive of life without him."

Legolas' mouth tightened. "Yet you will have to live your life thusly for his time in Middle-earth is at an end," he pointed out coolly.

"I am very aware of that, my prince," Gilwen said. "And 'tis for that reason I have come to you. Eternity in his company is within your grasp. It is not within mine. I had hoped you would find it in your heart to have pity on me and leave me with enough memories to sustain me in my remaining days."

Legolas stared at her, appalled at what he suspected she was asking of him. "What is it you desire of me?" he demanded.

"That you permit him to keep me company for the length of the sojourn to and from Lórien," she calmly answered.

There was no mistaking what she meant. Legolas felt a slow rage burn its way through his very being. But he stifled it and only said quite coldly: "You are bold to ask this of me."

"You are displeased," she said. "I cannot blame you. Yet all I request is a brief moment of your eternity together. Surely that is of small consequence to you."

"In that you are wrong," Legolas said stiffly. "Elves do not take their vows of fidelity lightly."

It was Gilwen's turn to stare. "Vows?" she repeated with consternation. "You are – you are—"

"Bound," Legolas all but snapped. "He is my binding-mate, my eternal spouse. I am sorry, _hiril_, but I cannot accommodate your request."

Gilwen shuddered in shock. It was blatantly apparent that she had not considered the possibility of an espousal between them. It seemed to shake her to the core. It was also obvious that she was cognizant of the inviolability of elven bindings. Else she would not have suggested so outrageous an arrangement, Legolas thought.

But he was soon disabused of that last idea. She suddenly clutched at his hand and said beseechingly: "Have pity on me! One last memory is all I ask. Please, will you not grant it?"

Legolas pried his hand from her grasp and stepped back. He said icily: "We are bound by the laws of our people and in the eyes of the Powers themselves. We are joined not only in our bodies and hearts but in our spirits as well. Even did he wish to grant what you would ask of him, I would not allow it. I will not yield him to you or any other. He is mine and mine alone."

The widow gasped at the glacial finality of his declaration. Shaking, she spun around to leave. At the last moment, she looked at Legolas again. What he saw in her eyes filled him with cold apprehension.

It was not hate he had glimpsed or loathing. He had seen both in the eyes of others and faced them down with creditable equanimity. No, what he had seen in the depths of her anguished eyes was, to his mind, far more troubling.

He had seen her desperation. Stark, unrelenting desperation.

oOoOoOo

The feeling of unease did not abate as the evening progressed. So disturbed was he that he requested Elrohir to take his leave of the festivities earlier than usual. To his relief, the warrior acquiesced soonest and they both headed back to their bedchambers with the understanding that this night Legolas would go to the Elf-knight's apartments. Which he did with alacrity.

Elrohir came out of his bathing chamber to find the Elf-prince already reclining in his bed, under the covers, his clothing tossed hastily over a chair. Shaking his head with a grin, he shrugged off his robe and slid in beside the archer. He regarded his mate's shining beauty a moment before leaning down to brush his lips against the other's mouth. He noted the tremor that passed though Legolas' sleek form.

Moving lower, Elrohir pressed a kiss to the hollow of the archer's throat then moved his lips up the white column of his neck. Legolas shuddered from the sensation. Of a sudden, he felt a great need to be loved and possessed as he had never done before.

"_Melethron_, take me now," he pleaded. "Love me as you did the first time you claimed me."

Elrohir heard the fear in his voice and looked at him in surprise and concern. "What is wrong, Calenlass?" he asked.

"I do not know," Legolas whispered. "Please, just do as I ask. Love me now."

He did not give Elrohir time to come up with any response but drew the Elf-rider down into a bruising kiss that drove all coherent thought from the twin's mind. The prince's heated thoughts stoked the twin's mind to even greater desire.

_Have me, Twilight. Fill me, ride me, make me cry out your name in joy._

Elrohir sensed his desperation but decided not to question it then. There was time enough for that later. He did as Legolas asked of him and loved his Greenleaf as he had on the night of their first coupling. With all the slow burning tenderness of Legolas' first yielding to him and all the fierce ardor of his own first taking of his golden prince. It was no difficult matter for him; not when Legolas' wanton yearning heightened his own lust and deepened his need to be one with his spouse.

He moved down the archer's lean frame, employing hands and mouth and tongue in a maddening, sensual exploration that left Legolas almost painfully needful. So inflamed was Legolas that by the time Elrohir engulfed him in the moist warmth of his mouth, he bucked up wildly. And when he felt the warrior's fingers slide into him even as he was skillfully suckled, he finally surrendered to his pleasure and cried out.

He no longer cared if anyone heard them. This would be their last night in Minas Tirith. Tomorrow, they would depart from the Guarded City for good and wait out Arwen's passing in Ithilien, in the deeps of the woods of Eryn Gael. Rumor would no longer harm them even should it last a hundred or a thousand years.

He struggled to forget Gilwen's words and the frightening look in her eyes. Fought to set aside the odd foreboding that had come in the wake of his encounter with the widow.

Elrohir sensed his need to lose control. To be controlled. Foregoing a more leisure pace, he took the prince swiftly and deeply. Burying himself in the silken warmth of the prince's body, he grasped Legolas' wrists and pinned them to the headboard. And then he rode him hard, pounding into him with more force than wonted. It drove Legolas near insane with sensation and emotion. Rapture spiralled and expanded and flowed between them as they approached the summit of their loving.

Glimpsing the last vestige of control in his mate's glistening eyes, the warrior, without releasing the prince's hands, reached down between them and, with a few, firm strokes, wrenched that last vestige from him. Legolas came totally undone. Filled, ridden, taken, he all but keened the Elf-knight's name as they both reached completion, his utter bliss more than abundantly evident in the gasping sobs that shook his slender body.

Tears wet his cheeks as he was gathered into his spouse's balming embrace. He held on tightly, grateful for the unconditional loving of his Twilight. Only when he had calmed down somewhat did Elrohir seek to uncover the source of his earlier unease.

He told him then about his conversation with Gilwen. Of the strange look in the woman's eyes and the foreboding that had come over him. Elrohir did not scoff at his fears. He had long ago noticed the difference in the way they perceived what was to come.

He and Elladan could glimpse the distant future; had visions of events that might yet take years to occur and persons still to be born many generations down the line. But Legolas' foresight was more elemental; closer to home one might say. He sensed events that were just around the corner. And they seldom failed to materialize.

He sought to allay his beloved's anxieties. "Do you wish for me to ask Eldarion to take her out of Arwen's retinue?" he softly said.

Legolas shook his head. "She would fight such a move and reveal to all what passed between you," he replied. "I would not have her expose your part in the beginnings of her faithlessness." He quickly kissed Elrohir when the latter winced at the reminder of that thoughtless night. "I do not desire that your last moments with Eldarion be marred by scandal and rancor." He hesitated then sighed. "But I admit I am worried about what she may do during your journey."

"Surely you do not fear that I would lie with her again," Elrohir whispered. "I am yours alone, _melethen_."—my love.

"I know," Legolas murmured. "I do not fear any weakness on your part at all. Yet I am afraid, Elrohir, of what I cannot say." He pressed his face against the warrior's chest, took comfort in the arms that snugly enclosed him. "She is so desperate. The look in her eyes... I have seen it before in others and it always boded ill. She is capable of anything. I can feel it."

"Capable of what?" Elrohir gently pointed out. "Trying to seduce me? In that she will fail, Calenlass, I can assure you of that. I would sooner pass from this world than betray you."

"Hush! Do not say that!" Fear limned the archer's voice anew.

Elrohir sighed and held him even tighter. "Forgive me for distressing you further," he said quietly. "I only want you to always remember that there is none in all creation that I desire but you. Only you, Legolas, no one else."

Legolas gazed at him raptly. And then he smiled and the love behind his smile lit up his face so brightly that Elrohir half gasped. He noticed the musing gleam in the archer's eyes.

"What are you thinking of?" he murmured.

Legolas whispered: "You made me cry out your name in joy." He lay back and drew the Elf-knight flush against him. "Have me again, Aduial. Love me through this night."

oOoOoOo

The early morning light was but a faint glimmer when Legolas awoke the following day. He drew in a sharp breath as he felt the ravages of the night's couplings. But then he smiled, welcoming the twinges that were evidence of his spouse's peerless loving.

He looked at Elrohir asleep beside him, sable locks spilling across the pillow, twilight eyes closed in the depths of slumber, sinuous lips slightly parted. His desire flared up anew, this time joined with the undeniable need to possess and prove his ownership of the darkling Elf. He bent down and kissed the warrior, slipping his tongue between his lips, invading the twin's mouth, waking the other with his heat and passion.

And then he took his Elf-knight as fiercely as the latter had taken him the night before; burrowing into him with hard, driving thrusts that had Elrohir gasping in shocked rapture. There was a rapaciousness to the archer's demeanor he'd seldom known in all their years as lovers. Not that he protested such treatment; not when it stoked his passion to heights he'd rarely scaled save with his golden prince.

Not when it provided them both with the means by which to endure their parting-to-be however brief. For sooner than Legolas liked, they found themselves before the gate of the Citadel, preparing to go their separate ways, Legolas heading east for Ithilien with Nimeithel, Gimli, Lindir and the warrior Elves while Elrohir and Elladan would go north with the escort of their sister, Arwen. In that riding also were Elladan's sons, Elendir and Elros. It would be their final service to their father's only sister; a last gesture of love and respect for their mortal aunt.

Legolas frowned when he spotted Gilwen amongst the ladies-in-waiting in Arwen's retinue. His fears had been temporarily lulled by his repeated couplings with Elrohir. Now a shadow of them rose once more. He could only silently entreat the Powers to keep his beloved Elf-knight out of harm's way.

The farewells to Eldarion were heartwrenching. The brethren had long decided that Aragorn's passing would mark the end of their sojourns to the City of the Kings. It would be best for everyone to let go of the past including Eldarion. Elladan and Elrohir had taught their nephew all that they could possibly impart to him; all that he would probably need to know. As Aragorn had learned to rule without the benefit of Mithrandir's counsel all those years ago, so now would Eldarion find his way without his Elf-uncles' guidance.

Legolas glanced at Arwen who was shrouded in somber grey and black. She did not weep; did not show any outward signs of sorrow at this final leave-taking of family and home. He knew then that she was already preparing to follow Aragorn. Thus her choice to return to the place where they had first plighted their troth. In Lórien, she would feel closest to her departed husband whom she would join before very long.

When they finally moved to mount their steeds, his apprehension nagged more fiercely than ever at Legolas. On impulse, he went to Elrohir and drew him into a tight embrace, uncaring of who saw them. What did it matter? They had said their last farewells to Minas Tirith. People would eventually forget what they had seen. And even if they did not, he and Elrohir would soon be beyond their reach.

"Legolas, I will be back soon," Elrohir murmured, stroking the golden hair comfortingly.

"I will be waiting," the archer replied softly. For the first and only time, he kissed the Elf-warrior in full sight of everybody.

Elrohir was smiling when he drew away. He caught Eldarion's eyes and his smile broadened when he saw his nephew's astonishment and delight.

"You have given everyone something to talk about for the next decade or so," he grinned, taking note of the wide eyes and gaping mouths of those around them. He had never cared to conceal their love before and was pleased to finally have it out in the open.

"Let them talk," Legolas smiled. "I would leave them something to remember us by."

Elrohir chuckled. "That you certainly have!"

Behind Arwen, Lady Gilwen's face was frozen with indefinable emotion but neither Elf paid her much heed.

At last, they rode down the long main street to the lowest level of the City and passed through the great gate. There, they parted ways. Legolas held back, allowing the rest to ride ahead. He kept his eyes on Elrohir as the company moved steadily north. He waited.

Just as the company crested the first rise on the Pelennor, Elrohir looked back and raised his hand in farewell. Legolas did likewise. And then he urged his horse forward and followed the others on the road to Ithilien.

Glossary:  
melethron – male lover

_To be continued_...


	139. Aduial 7 Transgression

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VI: Transgression  
_Lothron_ F.A. 121  
The journey back was dolorous for the most part even for the stern warriors of Gondor. They had left behind their beloved queen, there at the borders of the once-enchanted woods of Lothlórien. They knew they had seen their last of her.

For the brethren Elladan and Elrohir, it had proven even more grievous. The Golden Wood of yore was no more. There was no sign of the light and song that had once lit its very core. That Arwen would live out her last days in the sad and silent former heart of Elvendom in Middle-earth weighed heavily on them.

They had known Lórien in its noontide, lived many a happy day amongst the fierce yet merry Galadhrim. But now, as with Imladris, this other part of their childhood and youth was but a myth to mortals of this day and age.

They had lingered only long enough to ascertain that she would be safe and cared for. Not all the Galadhrim had forsaken their home. A stubborn, hardy few had remained and they welcomed their former lord's granddaughter with much love and respect.

At least, her brothers could find comfort in the knowledge that she would not be utterly alone when the end came. That loving hands would lay her to rest and tend her grave. And that word of her passing would be duly sent to them. But even this knowledge could not still the sorrow of loss and longing in their hearts.

It was simply too much to bear. It was time to join their kindred in Aman. In Elvenhome.

In company with a party of humans and a party that included women at that, they had been compelled to set up camp nightly to allow the others rest. That did not change on the pensive trip home. While the ladies were accorded the one large tent, the men-at-arms and the Elves slept beneath the stars. And as always, Elladan and his sons stayed close to Elrohir.

The Elf-knight had told them of Legolas' forebodings. Just as he had not scorned those apprehensions, neither did they. And they thus took measures to prevent anything unseemly from happening.

None of them believed that Gilwen would attempt anything so brazen as to try and seduce the warrior in full sight of everyone else. And so Elrohir had simply remained in the bosom of his family at all times, making it impossible for Gilwen to even approach him. And his brother and nephews surrounded him at night that she could not get to him without rousing the others first.

It was not that they feared that Elrohir would succumb to temptation. That was an impossibility. But none of them wished for a scene to occur now of all times. They did not desire for tales of indecent instances to reach Eldarion and mar his happy memories of them. And so they took care to keep their distance from her at all times.

It was with relief that the company finally crossed into Anórien. Minas Tirith was but days away and they would soon reach their homes. They encamped with higher spirits that very night.

Elladan thoughtfully regarded his twin as the latter sat back against a tree staring up at the stars above. Elrohir seldom fared well when he was apart from Legolas. And Legolas was oft beset with a burdened heart as well when he was without his darkling mate. It was telling evidence of the strength of their bond, one the older twin could not recall seeing the likes of in all his years.

He and Nimeithel shared an intensely intimate connection and they, too, were not happy to be parted for long. It was the same for every happily bound couple he personally knew of – his own parents as well as Legolas' sire and dam, Celeborn and Galadriel, Glorfindel and Erestor, Iorwen and Ailios, Daurin and Enedrion. All possessed that intangible yet potent link that marked the relationships of wedded Elves.

But the connection between his brother and his woodland spouse was special. It was so intense, so vibrant, that Elves could readily sense it without trying. One look was all it took for any and all _Edhil_, even babes and younglings, to tell that they were indeed binding-mates.

He'd oft wondered if this had occurred because of the one-sided binding to Legolas that his brother had undertaken ere he won the archer's love. Could that sacrifice have enabled the forging of a deeper connection between them than had ever happened before amongst Elf-kind?

His brother's sacrifice.

It struck Elladan then that only once before had he sensed this same intense bond. It had been between Arwen and Aragorn in that time between the plighting of their troth upon Cerin Amroth and Arwen's formal declaration of her choice to be of mortal-kind. It was only then, when Arwen had been shorn of her eternal flame, that he had ceased to feel that wondrous connection between them. Because she was no longer of Elf-kind.

Could that be the key? Elladan mused. A great sacrifice in the name of love? And Elrohir had made not one but two if one considered it. The first had been to choose immortality not for his sake but for Legolas'. Because the prince had begged it of him. The other had been to bind himself in love without certitude of it ever being returned.

Mayhap 'tis a blessing one receives in return for one's willingness to endure come what may for love of another, Elladan thought. He rose from his pallet and joined his brother under the tree. His sons ceased their discussion and hearkened to their elders' instead.

"You brood overmuch, _muindor_"—brother—Elladan reproved. "You will be back in his arms before long," he added soothingly as his twin continued to gaze wistfully at the stars.

Elrohir glanced at him. "Is my yearning so apparent?"

"Always," Elladan replied. "But now, even the men of Gondor know the reason for it."

Elrohir grinned a little. All through their journey he had been aware of the surreptitious glances at him and the whispered exchanges regarding him and Legolas. They had grown so blatant that during the final leg of the trip to Lórien, Arwen had roused herself enough to chasten her people and give them a brief but thorough lecture on elven nature.

That had stilled their tongues but not their shock. If anything, that had increased and the warriors and ladies had grown even more curious about their Elven companions. One could almost hear their thoughts. What else were Elves capable of?

"Whatever possessed Legolas to be so open about the two of you?" Elladan remarked.

Elrohir sighed. "He only wished to balm his fears. No harm can come of it any longer, _gwaniuar_. We are leaving the company of mortals forever. And truth be told, it pleases me that he loves me well enough to set aside his reservations even at this last."

Elladan chuckled. "Everything Legolas does pleases you."

"Aye, in the same manner that Nimeithel can do no wrong in your eyes," Elrohir retorted good-naturedly.

Elendir and Elros listened to their banter with wide grins. The younger twins had been doleful since parting from their aunt. Her loss had served as an acute reminder of what the choice of the Peredhil had once portended. They had both chosen to be immortal and would join their parents when they sailed forth from Middle-earth and thus had brought to an end that which had been both gift and bane to their family. But this event had recalled to them that there were those of their line who were forever lost to them and Elf-kind. Their foremother, Luthien. Their grandsire's brother, Elros. And now, Arwen.

This light-hearted interlude was just the comfort they needed.

Yet they remained ever aware and wary of the woman who could not keep her eyes off their uncle. Would that they could go off and leave the humans to make their way back to Minas Tirith on their own. But an implacable sense of duty held them to this path. None of their mortal companions save Gilwen had even been born during the War. They knew next to nothing of the little-travelled roads outside of Gondor. And the road to Lórien had been a secret one even at the height of the Golden Wood's flowering.

oOoOoOo

The sight of the Tower of Ecthelion rising high above the Guarded City had never looked so beautiful to the Elves, their keen eyes espying it ever before the rest of the company. They urged the rest to hasten down the road until they came to the fork where they would finally take leave of their human companions. It was just the hour after sunset. The younger twins grinned as they noted their father and uncle's preoccupied expressions. There was no doubt about what or who filled their thoughts.

But just as they made their formal farewells to the captain who had led the men-at-arms, he made an unexpected request. They had not seen it coming, not a one of them.

"My lords, the Lady Gilwen has informed me that she is not returning to Minas Tirith but proceeding to Osgiliath," he said diffidently. "Would it be too much to ask that she be allowed to ride on with you?"

Elladan glanced at Elrohir in consternation then looked at Gilwen as his twin was now doing. But the widow only looked back at them impassively in the manner of one awaiting and ready to accept their decision.

This left them in a quandary. They had no good reason to turn down the request since to cross into Ithilien they would have to take one of the three bridges within Osgiliath that spanned Anduin. The only other bridge was several leagues further southeast of their present location. Well out of the way.

Gilwen quietly spoke up. "My house is close to the first bridge into Ithilien," she said. "I will not take you out of your way."

In the end, they had no choice. It would be blatantly discourteous to deny a lady their services. One did not leave a woman to travel by herself particularly in the deeps of the night. Concealing their reluctance as well as they could, they acceded to the request. Showing no other reaction beyond the normal relief of a female who would not be left to fend for herself, Gilwen joined them as they at last turned down the road to Osgiliath.

They were silent most of the way to the river-cloven city. Only Elendir made an effort to speak with her and that was out of politeness more than anything else.

"You have a home in Osgiliath, _hirilen_?"—my lady?—he inquired.

Gilwen said: "My mother's family owned a house within ere the city fell into ruin. It has been restored since."

Elendir nodded and said no more.

It was well past the midnight hour when they entered the former capital of Gondor. It was silent and not a man or woman could be seen on the streets. Gilwen led them down a narrow cobbled road to the very walls of the city. As she had told them, they saw that the first bridge was but another street beyond hers.

Her house was located in a still hardly occupied section of Osgiliath. Dark windows and boarded up doors bespoke vacant residences waiting to be filled once more. They could not help some curiosity as they rode into a tiny courtyard fronting a small two-level building. This was not a permanent residence they realized but merely a place where her family had stayed when in Gondor in days gone by. The courtyard reached to the wall itself, which at this point was no more than a low stone parapet that overlooked the swift-running waters of Anduin. One could hear the rushing river just beyond.

Surprisingly, no servant came to greet his mistress and Gilwen herself lit the torches at the porch of the house and unlocked its door. Elladan frowned.

"Have you no servants to assist you?" he asked.

Gilwen shook her head as she opened the door. "We do not keep any when we are not in residence here. Do not worry. This house is small and I only plan to remain a short while."

Elladan and Elrohir remained outside, leaving it the younger twins to help her bring her baggage in. They had no desire to linger but to be on their way soonest.

To their surprise, when the three emerged from the house, Gilwen had a large tray in her hands. It bore a bottle of wine and four drinking cups. Before they could protest, she earnestly beseeched them to hear her out.

"'Tis the custom in Dol Amroth to see travellers off with a farewell cup of wine," she explained. "You will soon be travelling further than any in Middle-earth ever will. I would honor your departure with my land's ancient tradition."

Elladan glanced at his sons. Elros shook his head marginally, indicating that he and Elendir had inspected the cups and found them clean and that the bottle of wine was an unopened and untampered one. The older twin looked at his brother. With a sigh, Elrohir consented.

Gilwen laid the tray on a stone table on the porch and opened the bottle of wine. She filled the cups then began to hand them out herself. Elendir watched her keenly, wondering how anyone could become so obsessed with anyone or anything that she would invite scorn and suspicion from all and sundry.

He frowned when she handed a cup to Elrohir. Instead of holding it by its base, she placed her hand atop its rim and lifted it in that awkward manner before passing it to his uncle. He wondered that so well born a lady should be so graceless in such a common task. But then she did not do the same with Elladan's cup but held it properly. As she did with Elros'. Elendir's frown deepened.

It was when she gave him his wine that he saw it. A thick gold band on the middle finger of her right hand. It was oddly turned over so that its stone faced down. She let go of his cup as he took it. His sharp elven eyes espied it then. The stone was set in a ring of delicately carved gold and the entire setting had been pushed aside revealing... a tiny chamber within the band itself.

At once, his mind made sense of her earlier lack of grace. That finger – the ring itself – had been directly over Elrohir's cup!

He cried out frantically: "Uncle! Do not drink the wine!"

Too late. Elrohir had already taken a deep draught of the sweet liquid. For a moment he stared in bewilderment at his distraught nephew. A second later, his eyes widened and he gasped and flung his cup aside. Elladan was by his side in an instant, alarmed by the sudden pallor of his face.

"_Gwanneth_! What ails you?" he exclaimed.

Elrohir gripped his supporting hand and stared at him with horror-filled eyes. "Mandrake – in my wine," he rasped.

Elladan stared back at him, eyes as wide and fearful. He whirled about and glared at Gilwen in fury.

"What have you done?" he snarled.

Gilwen backed away, found her way blocked by Elendir. "I did nothing!" she protested.

"She lies!" Elendir said. He grabbed her hand and revealed the treacherous ring. "She added the poison through this!"

She snatched her hand away. "'Tis not poison!" she objected. "The old lady said 'tis but a few drops of a – a love potion!"

"You fool!" Elladan snapped. "Mandrake is indeed a potent aphrodisiac, but to bound Elves it is fatal!"

Gilwen gaped at him in shock. "Nay, it cannot be. She said—"

"You have killed my brother!"

"_Adar!_" Father!

He spun around to see Elros catch Elrohir in his arms. The Elf-knight was clutching at his chest; his breathing had turned labored. Elladan swiftly helped his son support the warrior.

Gilwen sobbed in remorse and shame. "Forgive me," she implored. "I did not know – did not mean to—"

Her reaching arm was angrily batted aside by Elros, the force of his buffet causing her to lose her balance. She fell to her knees before them.

Elrohir gripped Elladan's hand hard. "_Muindor_, take me... to Legolas... before..."

Elladan, eyes beginning to blur with tears, nodded. Elendir quickly fetched his father's steed.

Gilwen, hearing the name of the Elven prince, seeing at last what she had refused to see before, felt an overwhelming wave of despair, guilt and grief wash over her. She did not merely break; she shattered.

Scrambling to her feet with a hoarse cry, she turned and ran to the low wall overlooking the river. Realizing her intent, Elendir raced after her, grabbing at her as she clambered up the wall. She managed to elude his hand, teetered a moment on the edge then cast herself into the dark waters below. Anduin swallowed her almost at once as her heavy skirts dragged her down into the river's cold embrace.

Elendir could only look on in dazed horror at this, his first witnessing of an act of self-destruction.

"Elendir!" He started and glanced back to see that his father had mounted his steed and had pulled Elrohir up before him with Elros' help. "Come, _iôn_, we have no time to lose!"

The young Elf nodded, took one last shuddering look at the spot where Anduin had claimed Gilwen, then hurried to his own horse. Seconds later, the Elves fled into the night, their steeds galloping down the main street and across the wide bridge into the fairest province of Gondor.

Glossary:  
Lothron - Sindarin for May  
Edhil – Elves  
gwaniuar – older twin  
gwanneth – younger twin  
iôn – son

**AN:** Mandrake is a plant of the nightshade family. Its forked root was once believed to possess magical properties and was consequently used to create potions for reasons as disparate as relieving insomnia, curing a variety of bodily ailments, promoting fertility and, yes, inducing love in its capacity as an aphrodisiac.

_To be continued_…


	140. Aduial 8 Bond of the Spirit

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter VII: Bond of the Spirit  
Ithilien  
It was past midnight and still Legolas sat in the entrance hall of his house, studying the plans for the ship that would bear him and the twins over Sea when word of Arwen's passing reached them. Shortly before Aragorn's death, he and Elrohir had visited Edhellond in Dol Amroth and had been gifted with the plans by the shipwrights he had befriended during previous sojourns to the seaward realm.

"Staying up will not bring him to you any faster," Gimli testily informed him from the depths of the armchair in which he was ensconced.

Legolas grinned and glanced to where his sister lay on a couch, dozing as she, too, awaited her husband's return. "They will be here soon," he told his friend. "I would welcome them home."

"How do you know—?" Gimli broke off and snorted. "You sense his closeness, I suppose."

The archer nodded. "It is always thusly with all wedded Elves. But it seems particularly strong between Elrohir and myself. I—"

He suddenly stopped and uttered a shocked gasp. Gimli sat up straighter and stared at him in alarm. The prince had paled noticeably.

"Legolas! What is it?"

The archer staggered to his feet, cried out softly in fear and confusion. "Elrohir! Something is terribly wrong--!"

He spun around to find Nimeithel beside him. His sister had awakened at his cry and now sought to discover what ailed him.

"What of Elrohir?" she questioned. "What do you feel?"

"He – he is in pain—" Legolas shook his head, trying to clear it. "He is burning – from within—" He broke off and shuddered. "I must go to him!"

He threw off Nimeithel's arm and raced out of the house and toward the stables. He paid no heed to her pleas to await her and Gimli but flung himself on his horse and took off with nary a backward glance. Nimeithel swiftly mounted her own horse, pulled Gimli up behind her and followed her brother into the dark.

They rode steadily for hours through the herb-scented woods and glades and across the verdant plains of Ithilien, Legolas never slowing down but only urging his steed to hasten even further. The first light of the dawning day was breaking through the clouds when at last he espied a party of riders in the distance. Elven riders.

He swept the group with his eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Tinnu, Elrohir's grey warhorse, was riderless. Where was its master? Only then did he realize that not one but two twins rode Elladan's midnight hued stallion.

He was off his horse and running the rest of the short distance to his spouse. Moments later, Elrohir was being lowered into his outstretched arms. He hurriedly fell to his knees, gathering the Elf-knight close to him, pressing a kiss to his pallid lips. The utter whiteness of Elrohir's countenance frightened him beyond bearing. The others hurriedly gathered around them.

"What ails him?" he demanded of Elladan as soon as the older twin knelt before him. "What happened?"

Elladan told him the tale as quickly as possible. Legolas nearly turned as white as Elrohir as he came to its end.

"But – but surely there must be a remedy for this!" he insisted. "You are a healer, Elladan! There must be something you can do!"

"There is none!" Elladan shot back in frustration. "Else I would have administered it long afore this. There is nothing I can do!"

He started as Elrohir tugged at his arm. He bent low over his twin.

"Do not send word to Arwen or the King," Elrohir gasped. "I will not darken our sister's last days or further add to Eldarion's losses."

"As you wish," Elladan said in a strangled voice, awed that his brother could still think of others when he was in such dire straits.

The younger twin now turned his attention to the archer. He saw how his blue eyes swam with dread and dawning sorrow. "Legolas, I am so sorry," he said in a thready voice.

"Sorry?" Legolas repeated, bewildered. "By Elbereth's name, what are you talking about?"

Elrohir swallowed with difficulty. "Had I not taken Gilwen that night, she would never have deluded herself into believing that she could have me."

"'Tis not your fault, _muindor_"—brother—Elladan protested. "She believed it because she wanted to. She was driven thus by her loneliness and desperation."

Legolas drew his mate closer, stroking the pale cheeks with his warm hand, pressing his lips to the dark hair. "Do not leave me, Elrohir," he pleaded desperately. "I cannot bear losing you."

"I wish I could grant your wish, Calenlass," Elrohir choked. "But this is beyond my ability to do so."

"Nay, do not say that!" Legolas cried out protestingly.

He felt his sister's hand on his arm. "But surely he will be returned to us," Nimeithel said, desperately seeking to comfort her distraught brother. "Are not Elves released from the Halls of Mandos after a time of waiting?"

Elladan nodded, his throat tight with grief. "Aye, _gwanur_, take comfort from that."

"But not all are allowed to leave the Halls of Awaiting," Legolas said harshly. His voice broke on the last words.

"I _will_ come back to you," Elrohir managed to say. His breath was now coming in irregular gasps. His skin was cold and ashen, his lips pale and pained with the effort to speak. "If I must go down on my knees before all the Valar and Eru himself and beg, I will do it. Trust me, _melethron_."—lover.

"Aduial, you said you would never leave me!"

Elrohir nearly sobbed at the prince's anguish. "We will not say farewell. We will be together again," he rasped. He marked the beginnings of despair in the fair archer's eyes. He tightened his failing grip on the other's hand. "Promise me that you will not despair," he demanded weakly. "Promise me, Legolas."

The prince choked on his words. "I-I promise."

"Sail West," Elrohir murmured. "Wait for me…"

He glanced at Gimli. The Dwarf took his hand and leaned down to catch his nearly indiscernible words. "Take care of him for me, _mellon nîn_"—my friend—the twin pleaded. "Do not let him fade."

Gimli had to clear his throat. Struggling against the uncharacteristic trembling of his gruff voice, he staunchly said, "I swear, I will stay by him. Be at peace, son of Elrond."

Elrohir managed a weak smile of gratitude. He turned his eyes back to Legolas. His waning vision revealed the prince's grief-ravaged features. But what he saw was his spouse's incandescence, his wondrous shining beauty.

"You are still the closest thing to perfection that I have ever known," he falteringly whispered to the archer.

"Elrohir—!"

With a final spurt of strength, Elrohir reached up to grasp the prince by the nape and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Legolas poured all his love into the caress, willing some of his own life's grace into the warrior's fading body. But the pull of Mandos' Halls would not be denied. As Elrohir's lips stilled beneath his, Legolas felt his Elf-knight's last thought brush his mind. _I love you, Calenlass nîn._

The prince drew away with a gasp. Realization struck him with brutal force. With a terrible cry he laid his head upon his mate's now silent breast. He barely heard the sobs of Nimeithel and the twins or the raggedly whispered prayer by Elladan; scarcely felt Gimli's convulsive grip on his shoulder.

oOoOoOo

He laid Elrohir to rest in the secluded glade they had loved so well. Their sanctuary by the gurgling spring with its lacy waterfall. He visited every single day. He stayed by the green mound until the others insistently led him away. And he grieved as he had never done in all his millennia of life. A part of him had been torn from him and the wound remained open, raw and unhealing. It would not close. He knew it never would. Not until Elrohir was restored to him.

He was not the only one in mourning or Elladan and his family. Gloom swathed Eryn Gael in the wake of the tragedy. The Elves made regular pilgrimages to his grave. Tended it and always adorned it with fresh garlands and the sweetest herbs. Elrohir had been as much loved by the Elves of Ithilien as Legolas. With his loss came a dimming of the light and laughter of the Glimmering Wood. And a veil of secrecy was drawn about the settlement as well. No word would reach the world outside of the Elf-knight's passing. No record of it would be written down in any book. His and his twin's withdrawal from the world of mortal beings would be perpetually shrouded in mystery henceforth.

Meanwhile, Legolas began the building of the ship that would bear him away to the Undying Lands. He could no longer wait for Arwen's passing. Middle-earth had lost its allure and become cold and grey now that his spouse was gone. He would tarry not on these shores. He would not remain in Middle-earth one second longer than necessary. Elrohir's spirit now abided in Aman. Where his Elf-knight was, there he would go.

The others understood. They supported his decision and aided him in his endeavor. And they all looked after him, determined to keep him hale and whole against the day when Elrohir should return to reclaim him. As such, one of them was always about, seeing to his state of being, never leaving him alone for long.

It was for this reason that Elladan sought him one day and found him weeping by himself, concealed in a small clearing on a low hill by Anduin. Below, in the wide river, a grey ship lay in the new harbor the Elves of Ithilien had built. It was nearing completion.

The older twin sat by his side and curled a consoling arm around him. Legolas leaned against him, his body heaving with the terrible sobs that wracked him. Elladan allowed him to vent his grief as much as he needed to and desired.

"This is my doing," the archer flayed himself tearfully. "He offered to keep her from accompanying you but I told him not to. And for what reason? I should have agreed!"

"Don't, Legolas," Elladan said. "Elrohir would never have blamed you for this."

"But—"

"What happened was not your doing in the least. It cannot even be called an error in judgment for how could you have known what she would do in her madness?" He forestalled any further self-flagellations from the archer by pointing out: "If you would condemn yourself then so should the rest of us take our share of the blame, even Elrohir. We could have denied Gilwen's request to escort her to her home, refused her offer of wine. But we did not and so I have lost my brother and you your mate. Will you fault us as well for our part in this?"

The archer swallowed hard then shook his head. Elladan gently said: "Then blame yourself no more. Elrohir would not be pleased to see you hurting from more than grief."

Legolas fell silent for a long while. At length he looked up and gazed at the ship in the near distance. His ship.

"How do you endure it?" he hoarsely asked at last. "You seem so – so at peace, Elladan, yet I know you are as torn as I. I swore to him I would not despair but – oh Valar, _gwanur_, I cannot do this. I cannot—!" He buried his face in the warrior's shoulder.

Elladan held him tightly, stroked his shining hair as Elrohir had oft done. "I can endure it because of our bond of brotherhood," he softly replied.

Legolas raised his tousled head and stared at him through reddened, tear-raw eyes. "Your bond?" he quavered.

"Aye, _gwanur_. His body may be vanquished but his spirit still lives. And our bond is of the spirit. As is yours."

He cupped the sorrowing archer's face and looked closely at him. "Your grief has overtaken you and that is but normal," he murmured. "But it also hinders you from feeling your bond with him. It is there, Legolas, if you would but seek it. It is eternal; it will never diminish. In that sense, Elrohir is still with you."

"How can I feel it?" Legolas begged piteously. "Help me, Elladan. I cannot go on like this."

"Reach into the innermost part of yourself, Legolas. Seek the channel through which your love flowed most strongly between you." He smiled gently at his law-brother. "You knew it best when you coupled with him."

Legolas gazed at him. Saw the truth in his storm-blue eyes. The serenity that lay in their depths stemmed from the certitude of his twin's still existent eternal flame.

The archer trembled then closed his eyes. Striving to set aside his sorrow and loneliness, he did as Elladan counselled him and sought the center of his being. Opened his heart and soul anew despite the fear of feeling naught but emptiness and the hopelessness that would accompany it.

He willed himself to calm down, to remember only the joy and contentment of his years with Elrohir. With the gentling of his grief, his tormented soul quieted. And listened.

It came then. Like the softest note at the beginning of a melody before it burst into the glorious strains of the chorus. A tender welling of love that blossomed and spiraled within him. A love not his own but that came from without. Through the binding channel. He drew in a sobbing breath as it flowed over him and through him and around him, enfolding him in its sweetness and warmth. He reached out, allowed his own feelings passage to his spouse. And felt the wondrous wave of acceptance and gratefulness coming through the channel.

A measure of peace came over him then. Elrohir _was_ indeed with him. He knew he would still grieve, that he would still face days of shadowed mourning and nights of black sorrow. There could be no full assuagement of his anguished yearning. But this precious connection between them, however ephemeral, would succor him in his darkest moments. With its help, he would stave off despair as he had promised Elrohir.

He opened his eyes and saw that Elladan still regarded him, still held his face in his hands. He found the wherewithal to smile at the twin.

"Thank you, _gwanur_," he whispered.

He sighed as Elladan pressed a kiss to his temple. The Elvenlord rose and pulled him to his feet.

"Come, he awaits you in Valinor," Elladan quietly said. And they walked down the hill together.

Glossary:  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
Calenlass nîn - my Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	141. Aduial 9 Elucidation

**AN:** Prof. Tolkien came up with two concepts by which Elves could be returned to life. The original one – rebirth – was later supplanted by another – re-embodiment – because he decided the first one was too troublesome. I incorporated both ideas into this story.

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_

_by Eressë_

Chapter VIII: Elucidation  
It was a warm day near the end of May when Gimli sauntered down to the harbor wherein Legolas' grey ship was moored. In a few more days, his friend would set sail for Valinor. The Dwarf sighed sadly but resignedly. He had long girded himself for this separation from the one Elf he called closest of his friends.

He found Legolas out on the quay discussing some matter or other with Elladan whilst all about Elves hurried to and fro, fixing, loading, and arranging all manner of goods and things. The archer would not be making his voyage alone. A fair number of his people would join him. But not his sister and law-brother or his twin nephews. Not yet. They would follow later.

The two Elves smiled at their Dwarf-comrade as he came up to them. Legolas winked at Elladan, giving Gimli the distinct impression that they had been discussing something that had to do with him. But as they declined to enlighten him he sought enlightenment on another matter instead.

"Would you care to satisfy my curiosity about something?" he inquired even as his eyes roamed over the graceful lines of the ship with admiration.

"About what, my friend?" Legolas responded.

"On the matter of Elves coming back from the dead," Gimli said, his ruddy cheeks growing even redder. "What Elrohir said – 'tis passing strange to me though if this means he will return to you, then I am certainly thankful for it."

Legolas paused then glanced at Elladan. "I am not as learned in this as you, _gwanur_"—kinsman—he quietly said. "Would you explain to Gimli for me?"

"But of course," Elladan smiled faintly. He turned grave slate blue eyes on the Dwarf. "It may seem strange to you that any being should come back from the dead but, in truth, for the Firstborn, 'tis death that is unnatural and therefore not right."

"When an Elf dies, his _faer_, his spirit, passes into the Houses of the Dead in Námo's halls to await judgment of his life and deeds. Needless to say, not all _Edhil_ are deemed worthy of release from the Halls of Awaiting. But for those given the grace of rebirth, 'tis not a new life they receive but a continuation of their old one."

"But how?" Gimli asked in amazement. "Do you just leave those halls and go on with your life as before?"

"Nay, 'tis not that simple," Elladan said. "The reborn body must be restored to its exact form at the time of passing though healed of any grievous desecrations to it. 'Tis the _faer's_ remembrance of these details that makes this possible but it is a slow and careful process."

"Then how are Elves reborn?" Gimli inquired. "More to the point, how will Elrohir return?"

Elladan glanced at Legolas briefly before continuing with his discourse. "That will depend on the Valar's will. Some are released in full-grown form. 'Tis said this most oft occurs when one or both of the parents of the Elf in question are dead or have not passed on to Valinor yet. But more are literally reborn. When Elrohir is released from the Halls of Awaiting, his _faer_ will most likely be received into the womb of our mother to be born as an infant anon."

"A babe?" Gimli nearly choked. "He will return as your parents' third son?"

Elladan shook his head. "Not as their third son but as he was when he and I were born three thousand years ago in Imladris. 'Twill be no new infant my _naneth_ will bear but my twin brother, our Elrohir, with all the memories and knowledge he accumulated in all his long years."

Gimli was aghast. "Rather a lot for a babe to know," he commented. "Too much in fact."

Elladan had to chuckle at his reaction. "The memories will not surface all at once," he said. "He will grow like any Elfling, innocent of his past, unknowing of his future. But as he nears his coming-of-age, those memories will begin to return. By the time he reaches his majority, if all goes as they should, he will have been fully restored."

"Are you saying that it will be as if he had never died?" sputtered Gimli incredulously.

"Elves are reborn to continue their lives, not to begin new ones," Legolas softly reminded him.

"But – but it will not be quite the same," the Dwarf protested. "He will live a different life from what he experienced here in Middle-earth. How can he remain unchanged?"

"He will not remain unchanged," Elladan agreed. "But his new memories will simply be assimilated with his old. Therefore, he will be the wiser for it. 'Tis an arduous process and best done gradually so as not to shock a returned _Edhel_. Or so we have been told by one who knew it well."

Gimli pursed his lips musingly. "Then once he reaches his fiftieth year, it will be him again," he said. "Only in a new body."

"Only in the sense that it is conceived anew," Elladan corrected. "But it will be his body as closely as his faer can make it down to the most minute details. Even his old scars will reappear. And every feeling and thought and talent he ever had – love, hate, joys and sorrows, desires and fears. Even his formidable skills on the battlefield _and_ in the bedchamber," he added with a rakish grin. He nodded at Legolas smilingly. "But most especially his binding to our golden prince," he added softly. "Even death cannot break such a bond in Arda."

Legolas smiled back, comforted by his law-brother's words. He knew full well that there was no guarantee that Elrohir would indeed be returned to him any time soon. It would all depend on the judgment and mercy of Námo of Mandos, the most dispassionate and, therefore, the least moved of the Valar. Nonetheless, he clung to his Elf-knight's last promise to him. And every now and then reached out with his spirit to feel the other's soothing presence.

Meanwhile, Gimli was mulling something else. "How long does it usually take before an Elf is released from the Houses of the Dead?" he queried curiously.

"No one can say," Elladan admitted. "Only Námo and Manwë have authority in this matter."

"But don't you have any idea?"

Elladan hesitated. "Only Glorfindel ever returned to Middle-earth after his rebirth," he explained. "All others remained in the Blessed Realm."

"Well, how long did it take for Glorfindel to get his release?" Gimli prodded.

Elladan looked uneasily at Legolas. But the archer smiled wanly and nodded his acquiescence to having Gimli's curiosity satisfied.

"He never spoke to us of his rebirth, not even to my father," Elladan said slowly. "He may have confided in Erestor after their binding but the rest of us do not know the exact circumstances of his release. We can only guess as to the time of it. Glorfindel died defending my grandfather, Eärendil, and his parents, Tuor and Idril, against a Balrog of Morgoth at the Fall of Gondolin."

"A Balrog!" Gimli whistled appreciatively at the Noldorin warrior's feat, remembering as he did the creature the Fellowship had encountered in the mines of Moria during the Quest. And then he did a double take. "He died during the First Age?" he gasped. "Then when in Durin's name did he come back to Middle-earth?"

"All we know is that he came to the court of Gil-Galad in Lindon towards the middle of the Second Age with the specific purpose of serving my father who lived there at the time."

Gimli calculated the length of time in his head. "All things considered, that means it took at least a millennium before he returned and maybe even longer," he remarked. He grimaced guiltily when he espied the flicker of pain that shadowed Legolas' eyes.

"I am a bone-headed, blundering idiot!" he growled. "Your Elrohir bade me to take care of you and instead, here I am adding to your suffering. I am so sorry, Legolas. I did not mean to make you feel worse than you do already."

"'Tis all right, my friend," Legolas said soothingly. "I was not unprepared and you have been of great comfort to me these past many weeks. Elrohir would be pleased."

Gimli snorted in embarrassment. "More likely he'll wring my neck for distressing you," he commented. "If I'm still around when he finally gets out of those dratted halls!"

The two Elves looked at each other in a conspiratorial manner. Legolas gently said to the Dwarf: "You will be, Gimli."

The Dwarf raised sceptical eyebrows. "I may be of a long-lived race, Legolas, but a thousand years is a tad too lengthy even for me," he pointed out.

"Not in Valinor."

Gimli started then stared at him. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

Legolas took a deep breath and said: "I want you to come with me when I sail for Aman."

Gimli now not only stared at him but also gaped so gracelessly the Elves would have laughed had the matter not been so serious.

The Dwarf managed to recover his wits. "You know full well I cannot sail over sea," he snorted. "I am no Elf."

"That you are not," Elladan agreed humorously. "But you can sail and sail you must if you intend to accept the Lady of the Wood's true gift to you."

"What are you talking about? I already have her gift." Gimli fingered the locket on his breast with its treasure of a strand of golden hair.

"Nay, that was but the symbol of her gift," Elladan said. "To smooth your passage to the Blessed Realm so to speak."

Gimli stared at the two Elves in befuddlement. "Wha-what?" he all but stuttered.

"All speaking races not of Man-kind are fading," Legolas said somberly. "Even Dwarves and hobbits will dwindle as men spread out and take over the lands of Middle-earth."

"Almighty Eru has given leave to the Valar to take of each race and preserve more than their memory in the Undying Lands," Elladan added. "As the Ring-bearers now represent the Halflings in Valinor, so have you been chosen to represent your kindred. 'Twas my grandmother's privilege and duty to make this decision and she chose you, Gimli."

The Dwarf stared at them flabbergasted. Despite all the improbable things he had encountered and the most impossible events coming to pass, he had not at all expected this astonishing gift. And from the Lady at that!

Nevertheless, he was not easily won over even by the knowledge of the Lady's favor. The Elves had to argue long and loudly with him to convince him to accompany Legolas.

The Dwarf balked at going to a land peopled by, as he so baldly put it, blasted immortals who were probably more insufferable than the Elves of Middle-earth. He also grumbled about the nuisance of packing and preparing for an eternity in a strange new land. What was he supposed to bring with him? What could he bring with him? Oh, botheration! It was simply too much trouble.

Legolas finally resorted to other means of persuasion. Would Gimli now break his promise to Elrohir? he demanded. Had he uttered those words merely to ease his passing?

"That is blackmail!" Gimli roared.

"Of a sort," Legolas agreed.

"You would resort to so low a deed?" Gimli retorted.

"If I have to," Legolas replied.

As the Dwarf stood there huffing with indignation, Legolas pleaded with him. "I would not ask this of you if I did not need you by my side, old friend. Please."

Gimli hesitated. But finally he grinned and said, "At least, I shall get to see whether the Lady is still as beautiful as I remember."

And Legolas smiled in relief. It was one victory that he savored. He did not think he could bear to lose his Dwarf friend as well. He placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder as they all turned to regard the ship once more.

A few more days, the archer thought longingly. A few more days and he would at last seek the western shores.

oOoOoOo

His sword. His clothing. His leather-bound collection of illustrations. Legolas hugged the sketchbook snugly and closed his eyes.

It was the eve of his departure and he was in his bedchamber. The room he had shared with Elrohir for close to a hundred years. Where his Elf-knight had shown him naught but love and brought him more joy and contentment than he had thought possible for any being.

He was not leaving anything of Elrohir's behind. Each and every item had become as a treasure to him. And he intended that if – _when_, he determinedly told himself – his mate returned, he would have his possessions again.

He sighed. His heart still bled for his spouse. He doubted the wound would ever be staunched completely. It was worst at night. At least, during the day, he had his duties to distract him from his loneliness and grief. But the nights...

How he missed Elrohir then. Missed having his warm, withy body pressed against him. His limbs entwined with his. His inimitable kisses and caresses. Even the sounds of their loving had become a most precious memory to him. And indeed, it was not simply their love-play that he so yearned for but their mutual loving expressed in that most physical and intimate of ways.

He did not know how others coped with the loss of their mates. He wished he had their strength. His father's strength. Thranduil had lived without his beloved wife for years beyond count. How had he done it? Legolas knew he would not last that long. If Elrohir did not return soonest...

He did not have that strength. Not where his heart was concerned. He had known this from the moment he entrusted it to Elrohir. And the Elf-knight had tenderly kept it all these years. And still kept it.

He reached into himself as he always did when the sorrow threatened to overtake him. Reached for the assurance of his darkling spouse's love and concern. It was not always enough to keep the tears from falling. But it was always just enough to keep despair at bay. As it did now. He felt the balming connection again and drew a calming breath.

He would be strong. He would not fade. Elrohir would never forgive him were he to return and find him less than whole.

He saw in his mind's eye the grey ship in Anduin. Tomorrow it would bear him away from Middle-earth. He would at last answer the sea-longing that had awakened more than a century ago.

He was going home.

Glossary:  
Edhil, Edhel - Elves, Elf  
naneth - mother

_To be continued_…


	142. Aduial 10 The Shores of Aman

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter IX: The Shores of Aman  
Valinor, _Nárië_ F.A. 121  
The archer sighed heavily as he shook himself out of his memories. He looked out from the prow of the grey ship he had built to take him over sea. But though he kept his back to Middle-earth and resolutely looked to the West, a part of him still hearkened to the lands in which he had lived so long and loved if only for a short time.

Legolas espied something in the horizon. "Gimli!" he called. The Dwarf slowly came up to his side and cocked a questioning eye at him. "Look, Gimli, 'tis Valinor!"

"I can guess that! Know-it-all-Elf!" the Dwarf muttered.

Legolas simply smiled.

They both gazed with wonder as a vast green country opened up before them. There was Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, in the Bay of Eldamar, its white tower thrusting proudly into the sky. And there was the white sand on the long beaches and the massive mountain range of the Pelori on the easternmost shore of the continent.

"Now those are what I call mountains!" Gimli whistled admiringly.

The ship veered north towards Alqualondë, the city of the Teleri. Legolas caught sight of the great natural arch that was the gateway to the harbor. As they passed through the arch, Legolas curiously scanned the shore. There were folk awaiting the docking of the ship, some on the lamp lit quay, others further back. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed two figures in particular standing on the quay. There was no mistaking the form and bearing of Thranduil, King of the woodland realm of Mirkwood, Eryn Lasgalen of the Silvan Elves. But the other…

Gimli looked at him curiously. "What is it, my pointy-eared friend?" he queried. "I swear you have grown several shades whiter – if that's possible for an Elf."

"'Tis my mother, Gimli," Legolas replied in a hushed tone. "My mother! I have not seen her in twenty centuries!"

Gimli quickly peered over the railing of the ship and stared at the tall Elf lady by Thranduil's side. "By Durin's axe, so that's where you got that face of yours!" he gruffly commented. "Never did think you looked much like your father."

Beside Thranduil and Ithilwen stood other figures. Legolas swallowed hard at the sight of Elrond, Celebrían, Galadriel and Gandalf. How they had known that this day heralded his arrival he could not even begin to guess but he was more concerned about the news he bore. How was he going to tell them of Elrohir's passing?

As soon as he and Gimli debarked, Thranduil and Ithilwen hurried to greet them. The Elvenking enclosed his son in a hearty embrace before giving way to his wife. For a moment, Legolas gazed upon his mother, scarcely believing that she was restored to them.

"_Nana_," he murmured. Mama. And then he was in her arms and she was weeping with joy at holding him once more after so very long a separation. At his side, Legolas was dimly aware of his father welcoming Gimli.

"How did you know I was coming?" he softly asked.

Ithilwen smiled and said: "The eagles bring word to us of events in the Hither Lands. We already know of your binding to Elrohir," she added.

Legolas stared at her in amazement. Then he realized Elrond and Celebrían had neared them and he felt his heart fill with dread.

"Legolas, where is Elrohir?" Elrond asked in puzzlement. "Did he not come with you or will he follow with Elladan?"

Legolas swallowed with difficulty. He pulled away from his mother and turned grief-stricken eyes on the former Lord and Lady of Imladris. Elrond and Celebrían stared at him in shock, reading the answer in his expression. Legolas flinched at the other Elves' horrified gasps. For a moment, silence descended upon the group. Then Celebrían melted into her husband's arms and buried her tearful countenance in his consoling embrace.

Elrond looked up after a moment at the prince, his own face etched with sorrow. "When?" he whispered.

"Right after Estel's passing," Legolas choked. "He—"

Elrond held up a hand to forestall him. "We will speak of this later," he said softly. "I will not have your homecoming and your parents' joy marred any further."

Celebrían looked up and seeing Legolas' anguish, reached out and pulled him into her arms as well. Elrond put his arms around them both. The three of them stood thus for a while, Legolas finding solace in the embrace of Elrohir's parents and they, likewise, finding comfort in the presence of their son's _bereth_.—spouse.

At length, Elrond let him go and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We must take heart," he said firmly. "As your beloved mother was returned to you, so will our Elrohir be restored to us. We will await that day."

"But when will that be?" Legolas asked bleakly. "How long must we endure the waiting?"

Elrond sighed and shook his head. "Only Mandos can say," he gently said. "We can but pray that it will be soonest, the Valar willing."

Legolas nodded in resignation then looked up as Galadriel and Gandalf approached. Beside him, Gimli's jaw dropped open. The Dwarf still remembered how beautiful the Lady was but time had caused him to forget just how much.

Galadriel greeted them with words of welcome. Then she gazed sadly at Legolas. Though she remained quite composed, there was no mistaking the profound sorrow she felt for the loss of her younger grandson. "I grieve with you, son of Thranduil," she said in her low melodic voice. "May the Powers bring you solace and peace."

Legolas simply bowed his head in thanks. Galadriel turned her wondrous eyes on Gimli, which promptly caused the Dwarf to almost choke on his prepared greeting.

"There is still none more beautiful than the Lady of the Golden Wood," he finally managed to stammer. "Middle-earth is sadly diminished without your radiance to light up its forests."

Despite her grief, Galadriel smiled at the Dwarf's praise. "You still have a place in my regard, Master Gimli," she gravely replied. "Eldamar is now the richer for your presence."

Leaving Gimli to untie his suddenly uncooperative tongue, Legolas turned to Gandalf. It seemed like only yesterday that he had last seen the venerable Istar. Yet as he beheld the eyes of his old friend he saw that they still twinkled with the humor and wit he had known so well. He tried to smile when the erstwhile Wizard greeted him.

But Gandalf saw past the smile to the sadness within him. Understanding and compassion softened his crusty features.

"You bear a great burden, Legolas," he softly remarked. "Though I see that you have not given in to despair."

"He made me promise that I would not." Legolas sighed. "I miss him so, Mithrandir. And today the wound hurts more than ever." He nodded in his mother's direction. "I am reminded once more that I will have to bear this loss for a long time. Mayhap more than I can endure."

"Do you regret loving him so deeply then?" Gandalf said gently.

Legolas' smile was a ghost of its former self. "Nay, given a choice, I would do it all over again," he said but he also admitted, "I only wish that there was some way to dull the pain if only for a little while."

Gandalf placed a comforting hand on the Elf's shoulder. "Well, do not break your promise now, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen," he counselled him. "It would trouble him so. Yet I do not tell you not to grieve but to hold on to hope."

"Hope of what?" Legolas asked.

Gandalf broke into a strange smile. "Hope that happiness will be yours once more ere long. Remember, joy oft comes when you least expect it."

Legolas gazed at the Istar in puzzlement. "In one thing you have not changed, Mithrandir," he observed with some amusement. "You still speak in riddles and verily enjoy it!" The Wizard's eyes twinkled back at him.

Thranduil and Gimli came up beside him; the King said, "You have other friends waiting to see you."

He glanced towards the shore. There stood two small beings who might have been mistaken for boys.

Gimli gasped. "Legolas! Do my eyes deceive me? Are those Frodo and Sam?"

"Aye, my friend," Legolas replied. "Come, let us meet them."

Frodo and Sam ran up to them as they approached. "Legolas! Master Gimli, how are you?" Sam cried excitedly, looking as he had when they had set forth on the Quest. "What news of the Shire?"

While Gimli gave the little gardener a swift summary of the latest events in the Shire, Legolas looked down at Frodo. The Hobbit no longer looked worn and wounded and his eyes held a peace that had been sorely absent in the years after he destroyed the One Ring. "We meet again, Frodo Baggins," Legolas softly said.

"Yes, bless the Powers," Frodo replied, beaming up at him. "And it is a great joy to see old friends after all this time."

The rest of the party had followed them. Now Elrond addressed the Dwarf. "Master Gimli, before you accuse us of lacking in hospitality, I bid you come to my house for a feast in honor of your arrival."

Gimli's eyes lighted up in anticipation. "A feast?" he echoed. "And are the food and drink of my Lord Elrond's house as good as I remember?" he grinned impertinently.

Sam shook his head. "No, Master Gimli, it isn't as you remember."

Gimli's countenance drooped. "No?" he said almost mournfully.

"No," Frodo informed him with spurious solemnity. "It's better!"

The Dwarf's spirits were instantly revived. "Better!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Sam affirmed with laughing eyes. "Mr. Bilbo took a hand in the preparations and you know how well he can throw a party!"

"Legolas! Did you hear that?" Gimli crowed. "Why are we dawdling here? Let us go at once!"

Legolas had to chuckle at his friend's eagerness. His heart lightened if only for the moment. More than ever he was glad the Dwarf had come with him. He blessed Elrohir for getting Gimli to make that promise to take care of him.

They climbed the crystal stairs that ascended Túna in the Calacirya and came unto the city that crowned the hill. Elrond and Celebrían dwelt among their Noldorin kin. But in memory of Imladris they had chosen to live outside of the city of Tirion, by the western slopes of the Pelori, their home in a cleft in the mountainside surrounded by lush, fragrant groves reminiscent of the woods of the hidden vale. Nearby, tumbling waterfalls recalled the cascades of Rivendell.

Unlike Galadriel or Thranduil, Elrond had not sought a realm of his own in Valinor. After all, though he had had its lordship, Imladris had been founded as a refuge rather than a kingdom. But the Elves he had ruled wisely for two ages refused to leave him and dwelt so near to his halls that they had eventually formed a community so close-knit as to be considered apart from the rest of Tirion. Even such prominent Elves as Glorfindel and Erestor remained in his service, acknowledging the lordship of none but Elrond's. Here, too, had the Hobbits settled, their cozy home as much like Bag End in Hobbiton as the Elves could make it.

In a short span of time, the Rivendell Elves came to be recognized as a people separate from the Noldor, with Elrond and Celebrían as their chosen lord and lady. Even Finarfin, who ruled the Noldor, respected the Imladrins' independence and deferred to Elrond in all matters that concerned his people. Within a few more years, Artirion, as the community came to be known, became a realm unto its own.

Elrond and Celebrían's spacious halls were very much like the Last Homely House and a quick look around told Legolas and Gimli that even in Eldamar, Elrond's reputation as a loremaster and healer held fast. Legolas had to smile at the treasure trove of tomes and scrolls and bottled herbs and oils that peeked from shelves, cabinets and cupboards. Different from Elrond's halls in Imladris yet also the same.

For the present, all set aside their sorrow and basked in the warmth and affection of each other's company. As promised, the food and wine was everything Gimli could have wished for and more. He and the Hobbits were practically competing to see who could consume the most halfway through the meal.

Finally, Thranduil regretfully announced that he and his family had to go. They took their leave of Elrond and Celebrían. Gimli, too, said his goodbyes though it was understood that he would return after visiting with Legolas' family. The Dwarf had decided he would live in Artirion with the Hobbits, disliking the idea of dwelling permanently in any woodland domain.

Several woodland warriors awaited them in the courtyard, as did three beautiful Elven steeds. As always, Gimli was hoisted up behind the prince, muttering predictably about how horses and Dwarves did not mix and questioning why he let Legolas talk him into riding when getting around on one's own two feet was much safer.

He did fall silent, however, as they began the descent down a wide pass on the western face of Túna which then turned south. As they rounded a shoulder of the mountainside, a vast forest spread out before them. Legolas gasped in delight while Gimli's jaw dropped open in amazement.

His mother smiled at their awed expressions. "Behold Taur Galen, _ion nîn_"—my son—Ithilwen said.

Legolas started, stared at her, then at his father. "But that is just another rendering of Greenwood!" he exclaimed.

Thranduil beamed. "Aye, and 'tis also the realm now of our folk," he explained. "'Twas given us upon our arrival in Valinor. The Powers understood that Wood-elves cannot do without the forests anymore than they can stop breathing."

"And are you still their king, _Ada_?"—Papa—Legolas queried.

"They would have no other," Ithilwen interjected, her pride in her husband resonating in her voice. "Not even Olwë who is lord of the Teleri and your father's kinsman."

Thranduil smiled indulgently at his wife before winking in a most unkingly fashion at Legolas and Gimli.

"And what of the Galadhrim?" Gimli inquired, understandably interested in the welfare of the Lady Galadriel's folk. He had been too diffident to long engage the Lady in conversation during dinner.

"Their realm is but a few miles from ours, in Maltaurë," Thranduil smiled. At his son's double take, his smile broadened. "It seems that _mellyrn_ do grow in Valinor as well."

oOoOoOo

They followed an elven track very similar to the old one in Mirkwood. But this path was wider and more straightforward; there was no need for deception or concealment in Aman.

Taur Galen's trees were also not as closely packed as Greenwood's. The forest was light and airy and sunlight and moonlight easily penetrated its canopy.

Legolas breathed in the sweet air and felt his spirits lift a little higher. At the very least, his heart would be soothed by these friendly trees if not completely healed. That would only come with the return of that part of it that had been wrenched from him so cruelly.

To his surprise, they soon came upon the first bow houses of his father's people. The Woodland Realm lay but a mere two hours from the eastern borders of the forest. In all, the whole trip had taken little more than three hours from start to finish. It meant that travel between Artirion and Taur Galen could be accomplished not only in a short time but on the spur of the moment if so desired. A far cry from the needed-to-be-prepared-way-in-advance, weeks-long journey over the Misty Mountains between Rivendell and Greenwood. The thought comforted Legolas. The proximity to Artirion and his friends would make frequent visits possible and that cheered him immeasurably.

He delighted in his parents' tales concerning the forest, listened avidly as they introduced him and Gimli to the unfamiliar growth that mingled with beech, elm and oak. Legolas wondered if Maltaurë would prove as enthralling as the Golden Wood. But then, this was the Blessed Realm. No doubt the enchantment would be threefold if Taur Galen was any indication of Valinor's wonders.

They passed under a beauteous tree-roofed corridor and came into a vast clearing. Elf-prince and Dwarf-lord gasped. Instead of Mirkwood's delved palace, here was a soaring structure wrought out of the very trees themselves.

"Welcome home, my son," the Elvenking said quietly as he led them across a wooden bridge over a bubbling stream onto a wide cobbled courtyard.

Elves packed the open space in joyful welcome of their prince. Legolas blinked away the sudden moisture that blurred his sight. He could not help being deeply moved by their regard. And their tacit sympathy. It was apparent word of his loss had reached the kingdom ahead of their arrival. That they mourned Elrohir was obvious in the compassionate gazes they cast upon the prince. That nearly undid Legolas.

They loved him, he thought. He was as much their prince as I am.

His sorrow was momentarily forgotten, however, when they entered the great hall. The main hall of Thranduil's woodland palace was breathtaking to say the least. Even here the forest was welcome. Great trees served as pillars, their massive trunks reaching heavenwards into the high vaulted ceiling of the building.

They came out into a vast space behind the palace wherein a merry fountain danced. Beyond was a building that recalled to him the residential pavilion of the Woodland Realm in Greenwood. But to his surprise, after his parents showed Gimli to his chambers, they led him away down yet another path into a secluded grove a short distance from the pavilion.

He gaped when he saw the house. A two-level structure whose one side had been built around the trunk of a massive oak. An exact copy of his home in Eryn Gael. He stared at his parents in shock.

"Elrohir gave me detailed illustrations of your halls in Ithilien ere I sailed," Thranduil softly told him.

Tears stung the archer's eyes then. Wordlessly, he hurried into the house and looked about in wonder. It was as if he were back in Ithilien. Every piece of furniture and adornment had been duplicated and arranged just as they had been in his home in the Glimmering Wood. He swallowed hard when he saw the staircase leading up to the next floor. Shyly looking at his parents and receiving encouraging smiles from them, he ascended.

Elation took away his ever-present sadness for the moment. He could not help smiling widely as he inspected the upper-floor rooms – the guest chambers, the study. Even the small open alcove with its sole divan where he and Elrohir had sometimes spent a night's loving under the stars was there.

But the ache returned when he walked into his bedchamber. It was the one thing that had been altered somewhat. More spacious than his room in Ithilien, it had been enlarged for the use of a couple. At first, Legolas could scarcely bring himself to even go near the wide bed meant for two or look at the tub in the adjoining bathing chamber large enough for his and Elrohir's well-known antics.

But the belief that he would eventually share these beautiful quarters with the Elf-knight heartened him anew. And he comforted himself with the knowledge that the younger twin would love their home, fond as he was of the pleasures of such sumptuous accommodations. These thoughts in mind, he finally found the wherewithal to appreciate and consider a haven the sanctuary his parents had so lovingly prepared. He was smiling again when he rejoined them shortly and they went back to fetch Gimli for a more thorough exploration of his new home.

His prayer that first night in the Undying Lands was simple but fervent. Standing on his balcony overlooking the gardens, he pleaded with all his heart that the Valar would hearken to his plight and restore his heart's desire, his soul's chosen one soonest.

Glossary:  
Nárië – Quenya for June  
mellyrn – plural of mallorn

_To be continued_…


	143. Aduial 11 Twilight's Advent

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter X: Twilight's Advent  
Artirion, _Yavannië_ F.A. 138  
Legolas seated himself upon the wide sill of the arched window in the library on the far side of Elrond's halls. He gazed out pensively at the night sky; stared at the starry firmament as he strove to calm his ruffled feelings.

It was now seventeen years since his arrival in Valinor. Sixteen since Elladan and Nimeithel had learned of Arwen's passing and followed him to the Undying Lands. With them had come their twins and Celeborn and Lindir and all the remaining Elves of Imladris. Eryn Gael, the settlement he had founded in Ithilien still flourished, however, as did the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen.

But even these two elven domains' times were ending. Nimeithel had brought word to her parents and brother that Melthoron and Brethildor would eventually come to Aman along with their respective mates and families and many of their Wood-elven subjects. Theirs would most likely be the last ship to sail from the Hither Lands. When that happened, Círdan would also forsake Middle-earth's shores and Lindon, the longest lasting elven realm in the Hither Lands, would pass into legend as well. Any of the Firstborn who chose to remain behind would either have to seek their own means of travel to Valinor as Legolas had done or dwindle and become a hidden folk, a matter of myth and rumor to men of later days.

But for those who came to Aman to eternally reside in Elvenhome, there was the joy of reunion with loved ones and the gradual adjustment to their new abode. Legolas smiled at the notion. He himself no longer felt like a stranger in Valinor. He had to admit he was very much at home in Eldamar. The house he always kept in readiness for his own much prayed-for reunion was a refuge of incalculable worth. And the nearness of close kith and kin had helped ease his loneliness to a more tolerable degree.

His wandering thoughts returned to the reason for his presence this evening in Elrond's halls.

The Lord of Artirion was feting his wife who was newly announced to be with child. After the heart-rending losses of two dearly beloved children, it was no wonder the couple rejoiced in this unlooked for blessing. It was reason enough to hold a great celebration in their gracious home. Reason enough to invite many of the noblest of the Eldar of Valinor to the occasion.

Thus Elrond's wide halls and Celebrían's elegant gardens teemed with guests from Tirion, Alqualondë, Taur Galen and Maltaurë. And Vanyar, Noldor and Teleri mingled felicitously, partook of the sumptuous feast laid out for their pleasure and discussed their hosts' unprecedented hospitality. If this was how well Elrond and Celebrían celebrated the conception of a child, they could only imagine what the couple would do when said child was actually born!

Legolas, though he had had little heart for merry making, had done his duty as their law-son and mingled with the guests at first. But before long, the unwanted attentions of admiring females and the unwelcome importuning of would-be suitors had driven him to seek solitude in this isolated part of Elrond's home.

The flirtatious _ellyth_ and salacious _ellyn_ had tested his patience to the hilt, more so the latter. At least, the maidens retreated once he made it clear he was determined to remain chaste. But the males could be too persistent and he had already had to resort to physical means to rid himself of one troublesome Elf.

He twisted the gold band on his finger. It shocked him that even the evidence of his status as a bound _Edhel_ was not enough to discourage them. It did not occur to him that sheer fairness of countenance and form could turn even the most reasonable Elf into an imprudent hunter.

He was by no means disinterested in others' company. He frequently sought the fellowship of his friends as well as family. Elladan was ever ready to accommodate him in his occasional need for succor and counsel; their age-old friendship had deepened even further in the wake of their mutual loss. And there was Gimli and the perpetually cheerful hobbits to sustain him when his spirits drooped. His childhood friends, Mithrael and Heledir, had also long settled in Valinor with their families and he spent many a day with them. And he had made new friends, of course, amongst the long time residents of Eldamar and was loyal to and caring of them as well. But that was all he was willing to give of himself.

He could not conceive of sharing himself intimately with any other save his departed spouse. And it was not mere duty that stayed him from seeking the tenuous consolation of casual, noncommittal bed-play but that he craved no other's touch save Elrohir's. Simply put, they were not he and therefore found no favor with him.

He sensed the entrance of someone into the chamber. A scathing remark nearly escaped his lips before he realized it was his mother, Ithilwen, who approached. He relaxed and smiled ruefully at her.

Ithilwen could not help the sense of pride that welled up within her as she regarded her youngest son. Clad in a midnight-hued tunic over dark grey long breeches and light shoes, he was a vision of startling contrasts but a vision nonetheless. There were few _Edhil_ to match his sublime radiance in all Aman even amongst the golden Vanyar. Indeed, his beauty had been extolled throughout Elfdom since he set foot in the Blessed Realm. But none of his admirers had attained the pleasure of winning more than polite acknowledgement of their appreciation of that aforementioned beauty.

"I am glad you still welcome my presence, _ion nîn_"—my son—she said with a knowing smile.

Legolas reached out a hand and helped his mother onto the sill beside him. "I am sorry, _Nana_. I thought you were that tiresome Bregon who would not believe that I am not pining for someone to share my bed."

Ithilwen laughed softly at his expression of exasperation. "Since he did not follow you I must presume that you managed to convince him of your resolve. May I ask what you did to dissuade him?"

Legolas snorted. "I flipped him into the garden pond and left him to cool his ardor in its chill waters."

Ithilwen giggled, eliciting a chuckle from her son. "I am sure he believes you now," she said.

Legolas sighed. "If only they would just leave me alone. You would think once they saw my ring they would know better than to pursue me."

Ithilwen paused. She raised a white hand and stroked her son's cheek gently. "I fear you have attracted much interest, Legolas. There are many who would not mind the impermanence of mere physical intimacy with one as desirable as you. And there are also those who seek to bind themselves or their daughters or sons to you."

"Because they seek alliances with _Ada_ and our kinsman, King Olwë," Legolas said with contempt.

"Your beauty and strength are also potent incentives, _pen neth_."—young one.

Legolas shook his head. "They seek in vain. Let them look elsewhere. I already have a _bereth_, a spouse, and there is no breaking our bond."

"But would you do so if it were permitted?"

Legolas looked at her in surprise. "Permitted?" he repeated. "Are you saying a binding can be broken?"

"If the Doom of Finwë and Miriel were to be invoked and the Valar countenanced it, then, aye, a binding may be dissolved," Ithilwen replied

"What Doom is this?" Legolas asked, more out of curiosity than interest.

"Ages ago, Miriel Serindë, wife of Finwë, first King of the Noldor, passed into the Halls of Awaiting," the woodland queen explained. "Finwë grew lonely and also longed for more children and, thus, desired another wife. To accommodate his desire, Miriel agreed to forfeit her chance of ever coming forth again from Mandos' halls. She chose to remain within them for eternity. Thus, Finwë was released from his vows and took Indis of the Vanyar as his second wife. The rest of that tale you already know."

Legolas stared at her in dawning suspicion. "Why have you brought this up?" he queried. "Do you and _Ada_ want to marry me off to someone?"

"Nay, _mell nîn_, we know full well where your affections lie." Ithilwen hesitated. "'Tis Olwë who has inquired about your willingness in this matter. It seems that an impressive number of Elves have urged him to persuade you to consider taking a new mate."

"What?" Legolas gasped, aghast. "Are they mad? They would doom Elrohir to an eternity in those halls for the sake of their ambitions?" He flashed an angry scowl at his mother. "You already know my answer, _Nana_. Why did you even trouble to ask me such a foul thing?"

"Because 'tis Olwë who made this request and, out of respect for him, I had to put the question to you," Ithilwen pointed out.

Legolas started to tremble with rage. "Will they force this upon me?" he demanded. "Can they break us apart? If they do, their efforts will be in vain for I will sooner die than be bound to another and be forever parted from Elrohir!"

"My love, my love, no one can force this upon you," Ithilwen cooed soothingly. "If 'tis your desire to keep your bond with him, there is no force in Arda that can break it. Nay, not even the Valar themselves if you or he are unwilling."

"They are fools to think that I would replace Elrohir with some mewling brat or overweening pretender," Legolas hissed.

Ithilwen sighed. "Unfortunately, there are still some misguided souls who think a Half-elven lord not worthy of a prince of the Teleri," she said. "Not all the Elves of Eldamar know of the Peredhil's wondrous deeds in Middle-earth." She nodded in the direction of the festivities. "They respect Elrond and his family but there are those who decry wedding or breeding with _Edhil_ who bear mortal blood in their veins."

Legolas laughed bitterly. "They would compare themselves with a grandson of Eärendil? They could never hope to match him in nobility or valor or beauty, much less surpass him. 'Tis folly to imagine that I would ever give him up for one of them," he snapped angrily. Of a sudden, he heaved a shuddering breath. "They do not see that all that holds me from despair is the hope of being with him again," he said almost whisperingly. "That only his oath has kept me from waning in grief."

"His oath?" Ithilwen echoed in surprise. Her heart suddenly ached for her son, as his anger dissipated to be replaced by sorrow.

"Before he died he swore he would come back to me," Legolas said painfully. "He—he said he would beg of the Powers and Eru himself if he had to that he be returned to me and soonest."

He looked at his mother, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I know only Námo can decide if a _faer_ may leave his halls but I have held onto Elrohir's promise nevertheless. I have to believe that he will come back to me else I will despair. I promised him I would not despair, _Nana_." His voice broke as he finished.

Ithilwen pulled her son into her arms. "Ai, my Legolas, I did not realize how deeply you still grieve for him," she murmured. "Do not stop believing then."

She drew away and cupped his face between her palms. "Keep your promise to him and do not despair. Trust that the Powers will have pity and grant your heart's desire ere long." She wiped the incipient tears from his eyes. "And as for Olwë's request, your father and I will make it perfectly clear to him that 'tis out of the question. Do not fear force or coercion from any quarter, my love. 'Tis your will in this matter that the Valar will uphold."

Legolas laid his head gratefully upon his mother's shoulder. Small comfort though her words of encouragement were, it was still comfort and that he needed if he were to go on hoping.

oOoOoOo

Eldamar, _Yavannië_ F.A. 139  
The youngest prince of Taur Galen looked out upon the cobalt waters in the Bay of Eldamar, facing east to where the Hither Lands lay. It was now eighteen years since Elrohir had passed away. Eighteen years since his heart had been rendered wounded and unhealing.

He oft stood on the long white shores of Valinor, looking back to where the Elf-knight's green grave still lay. Always, memories assailed him and, though bitter mingled with the sweet in the remembering, he needed to recall the past in order to endure the lonely present and keep up his hopes for the future. He twisted the gold band on his right index finger. It had become his habit to do so whenever he thought of his darkling mate.

After a long memory-tapestried while, he turned his back on the sea and made his way to Artirion.

A few days ago, a messenger had arrived in Alqualondë where Thranduil and his wife and son were visiting with his kinsman, Olwë. The Elf had announced the birth of a son to Elrond and Celebrían that very morn.

The messenger had also specifically issued an invitation to Legolas to visit Elrond's halls as soon as he could. Legolas had accepted but before proceeding to the healer's home this day, he had made this quick trip to the shores of Eldamar first. It was almost like a pilgrimage to him, one that strengthened his connection with Elrohir no matter how fleeting or elusive.

He was blithely welcomed by Elladan and Nimeithel. To his bemusement, they immediately led him to Elrond and Celebrían's bedchamber, broadly beaming all the way. The Lady of Artirion sat up in bed, cradling her babe, her doting husband at her side. As soon as she saw Legolas she beckoned to him, a secret smile on her lovely face.

"_Suilad_, Legolas"—Greetings—Celebrían said. "We are pleased you were able to visit us in this time of joy."

Legolas smiled back. "I would not miss this moment for all the gold in Arda, _Naneth_"—Mother—he replied.

"Indeed, 'tis worth more than gold," Elrond remarked cryptically. "Come, will you not look upon our son?"

Legolas shyly acquiesced and bent over the child. His eyes softened as he took in the infant's dark beauty. Sable hair and proud eyebrows marked him as Elrond's son but the pale luminosity of his skin and the sinuous sculpted lips of his mouth, both so alike to Elladan's, were undeniably inherited from Celebrían. He reached out a hand and with his finger stroked a plump, petal-smooth cheek.

The infant's eyes opened at his touch and a pair of long-lashed grey eyes stared at him. Grey that bordered on silver, Legolas realized with awe. He was all but mesmerized by the infant's gaze. Then all unbidden, the babe broke into a smile and, to the archer's amazement, reached out its arms to him. He looked at Celebrían uncertainly.

"I think he would like to make your acquaintance," she dimpled and, without hesitation, eased her child into the prince's arms.

Legolas' eyes widened as tiny hands instantly grasped a stray flaxen lock that had fallen over his shoulder and clung to it with gleeful tenacity. He had to smile as the infant toothlessly grinned at him in delight.

"What is his name, my lord?" he inquired of Elrond, gaze still locked on the wee Elfling.

"The same name he bore in Middle-earth, Legolas," Elrond replied ever so gently. "Elrohir."

In that moment, time seemed to come to a standstill. Turning almost paler than the pristine draperies of the bedchamber, Legolas stared first at Elrond, then at Celebrían, before looking back down at the infant in his arms. He was forced to take several deep breaths before he regained the ability to speak lucidly.

"El-Elrohir?" he stammered. "He is-he is returned…"

Words failed him as the silvery eyes continued to regard him with innocent wonder.

"Aye, Legolas, he is returned to us," Elladan confirmed. "Do you not mark what year it is?"

Legolas looked at him in perplexity for a long while before suddenly letting out a stunned gasp. It was the 139th year of the Fourth Age in the reckoning of Middle-earth. The very same year the twins had been born in Imladris in the last age. And now he realized with ever increasing awe that the infant had been born on Elladan's begetting day almost down to the very minute the elder twin had emerged from his mother's womb.

The others smiled with glee when they noted his full comprehension.

Elrond said gratefully: "'Tis remarkable that he was released so soon. It seems our prayers in this regard were answered quite promptly."

Legolas could only nod mutely at first. And then he collected his wits and looked curiously at Elrond and Celebrían.

"Did you know 'twas he that you carried?" the archer asked in a hushed voice.

The silver-haired Elf-lady nodded. "Námo informed us when he decided to release our son from his halls."

"Why did you not tell me?" Legolas said a little reproachfully to his law-parents. "You knew how much I yearned for this day."

Elladan placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. "We did not want you waiting on hope for a whole year, _gwanur_. We thought it would be more gratifying for you to see him in the flesh and know for a fact that he is at last returned."

Nimeithel added, "Father and Mother thought this course wisest, too, _tôr iuar_."—older brother.

Legolas was at a loss for words. He knew they had only sought to spare him more unbearable waiting. Still and all, he could not help feeling a little resentful that he had been left completely in the dark. The feeling was banished, however, when Elrohir tugged at his hair, reclaiming his attention once more.

He gazed down at the child and was caught in his twilight stare once more. His own eyes glistened with sudden gladness. "_Elrohir nîn_," he whispered tenderly. My Elf-knight.

Lifting the babe higher, he pressed a gentle kiss to its smooth temple. The infant Elf-knight cooed softly at him and happily nuzzled his face against his cheek in turn. Legolas felt his heart swell with joy and hope.

Glossary:  
Yavannië - Quenya for September  
ellyth - Elf-maids  
ellyn - male Elves  
Edhel, Edhil - Elf, Elves  
Nana - Mama  
Ada - Papa  
mell nîn - my dear  
faer - spirit  
gwanur - brother or sister though a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

_To be continued_…


	144. Aduial 12 This Saving Grace

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

**AN:** If Elrohir seems a little precocious for his age, about six-years-old in human terms, please bear in mind that Elf-children, while slower to mature physically than human children, were swifter in the development of their minds and talents according to Prof. Tolkien.

Chapter XI: This Saving Grace  
In the years that followed, the Elven prince found the child, Elrohir, as attached to him as he was to the Elfling. In uncanny imitation of the previous worship shown the twin by Aragorn and Eldarion, Elrohir now followed Legolas around whenever the archer came to Artirion.

Only Elladan had an equal hold on the young Elf's affections. Their twinship, though interrupted by Elrohir's passing into the Halls of Mandos, could not be undone. The link remained intact between the brothers even up to the unique rapport they had always shared. That was to be expected, everyone agreed. The bond forged by their yearlong companionship in their mother's womb could not be easily broken and they had always been closer to each other than was the case with other twins.

But Elrohir's attachment to Legolas was another thing entirely. Granted that at this stage it was on the order of pure friendship. Still none could explain, not even Elrond, the deep bond that sprang up between the woodland prince and the Imladrin lordling.

It had been thought that any memories or feelings from his past life would be late in coming and would most likely come to completion when he reached his majority. Their binding link was and always would be present but it was supposed to be subdued until the returned mate attained full maturity. Yet from the start, Elrohir was drawn to Legolas like a bee to a honey pot. Elladan put forth the supposition that it had to do with the singular intensity of the connection his twin had previously shared with the archer.

As a babe, he was content to be cradled in the archer's arms, oft desiring them over his own parents' embraces. Even in the changing of his swaddling clothes or bathing or being sung to sleep, he showed a marked preference for Legolas' ministrations, many times leaving his nurse, Almariel, to look on in bemusement.

"I wager if he could suck milk from you, he would," Elladan smirked one day as he observed Elrohir refuse to be burped by Almáriel in favor of Legolas' shoulder.

Legolas blushed at the gibe. It came too close to the bone not to affect him. "In one thing he will certainly not change overmuch if you are to be his example," he tartly remarked.

"Which is?"

"Your questionable sense of humor!"

Elladan grinned. "But if you were true to yourself, O Prince, you would admit that you would dearly love to suckle him as well, milk or no!"

He barely dodged the pillow the now crimson-cheeked archer one-handedly hurled at him, prompting Nimeithel to haul him out of the nursery.

"Come, _hervenn_, you are risking life and limb with your wicked jests," she chided. "Leave my brother be lest you wish to taste his temper!"

Legolas, cheeks still aflame, gazed at Elrohir again. He swallowed hard as his incipient lover joyously nuzzled his tiny face against the exposed skin of Legolas' chest where his shirt was unlaced. He could not keep his thoughts from straying to the future when Elrohir was grown once more and...

He shook his head fiercely. It was unmeet and unwise to coddle such ideas this soon. He looked down when Elrohir snortled gleefully and found the infant Elf-lord smiling up at him, hands reaching out avidly. His heart all but bursting with happiness, he lifted Elrohir to his shoulder that his little Elf-knight might curl his arms around his neck and press his sweet countenance against the archer's face.

oOoOoOo

As Elrohir grew into boyhood, his attachment to Legolas did not wane. He was always overjoyed to see the prince, was inevitably the first to welcome him during his visits to the vale and would follow him about, his sweet comely face a picture of sheer delight at being in his friend's company. Together with Elladan, they made a fondly regarded if amusingly uneven threesome recalling the years in Middle-earth when their triumvirate had been so complete no other Elf could come between them.

Not even Elladan's own fun-loving twin sons could wean the re-born Elfling from the company of his dearly loved brother and deeply adored friend. Legolas, on the other hand, found his love for the younger twin deepening ever more as he experienced the rare and never to be repeated phenomenon of watching his beloved grow up. Witnessing first-hand how Elrohir had come to be the Elf-lord, warrior and lover he had known and cherished in Middle-earth only strengthened his conviction that here was the only one for him, the desire of his heart, the choice of his soul.

In this fashion did the years roll by, the bitter mingled with the sweet, as Legolas patiently waited out his Elrohir's childhood.

oOoOoOo

On a fair day in September a week or so before the brethren's begetting day and, incidentally, Elrohir's fifteenth, Legolas came to Artirion and Elrond's halls and was greeted by Glorfindel upon his arrival. Knowing his intent, the fair-haired captain led him at once to the gardens behind the house. There they found Elladan on the back porch watching his sons and Erestor as the three discussed something by a large oak. Before either Legolas or Glorfindel could say a word, he quickly put his finger to his lips in a gesture asking for silence.

Legolas, wondering at the need for stealth, turned to look at the trio in the garden. It was then that he noticed something odd. Slowly and ever so deftly, Elendir and Elros would shift their positions relative to Erestor the result of which was that the steward all unknowingly was backing up against the tree. Legolas held his breath, instinct telling him something was about to befall the unsuspecting counsellor.

Instinct proved right as something indeed befell Erestor. Literally. As soon as he stepped directly below a low-hanging branch, a bucketful of water came sloshing down upon him. The steward yelped in shock and looked up. A small form hurtled down directly into Elendir's outstretched arms and, without missing a beat, both of Elladan's sons raced away, a giggling Elrohir in the older twin's embrace. Erestor at once gave chase, shouting imprecations as he went, forgetful of the supposedly tender years of Elrond's youngest.

The three on the porch doubled over in laughter before Glorfindel made to go after his beleaguered mate. "At least they did not use pond water this time," he chortled before hurrying off.

Legolas shook his head. Like their father before them, Elendir and Elros, though past their first century, were not adverse to playing a few pranks here and then on the members of their grandsire's household. But in this case, the archer wondered if they had been the instigators of this jape or merely willing assistants.

"Poor Erestor," he remarked with a snicker. "Just when he thought he was safe from such jests forever."

Still chuckling, Elladan could only nod in agreement. After a spell, he caught his breath and, smiling at Legolas, said: "You are early, _gwanur_."—brother.

Legolas could not help a slight blush. "I left Taur Galen at dawn," he admitted.

Elladan chuckled again. "Valar, you are eager for this visit," he teased.

"You know I always am," Legolas pointed out, his cheeks crimsoning further.

"Aye, and I do not blame you," the twin said soothingly. "And I would call your arrival timely. I was planning to take Elrohir to the Tirion market right after the midday meal. 'Twill be his first visit there. Your company will gladden him even more."

Legolas smiled with pleasure. "Then my haste was well worth it."

His smile was even brighter much later when they made the brief trip to Tirion. They seldom rode to the elven city on the crown of Túna for it was less than an hour's walk from neighboring Artirion. But with a youngling in their charge, the older Elves decided it would be more prudent to ride should said youngling tire before day's end.

Elrohir's excitement during the trip was such that he could scarcely keep quiet for more than a few minutes at any given time. It only waxed when they finally arrived at the public stables and, after tethering their steeds within, entered the bustling marketplace. The young Elf's eyes increasingly widened as they made their way around the various stalls and down narrow streets.

In one street alone, the air was redolent with the aroma of freshly baked breads and pastries which lay cheek by jowl beside delectable sweets and freshly churned butter, golden cheese, pots of honey and jugs of milk and cream. Further on were stalls of poultry and game and produce and the morning's catch from the Bay of Eldamar, still fresh and smelling of the salty sea. Haunches of venison, sides of wild boar and trussed up chickens, hare, pheasants and partridges hung from wicked looking butcher's hooks. Vegetables and fruits, both wild and cultivated, were laid out in glorious profusion on wide boards and tall shelves. And the silvery bounty of the ocean gleamed in large wooden vats and atop well-scrubbed tables. Tucked in between the stalls were tiny shops that carried all manner of drink from the finest wines to the heartiest ales.

Beyond the foods stalls were stores that carried a dizzying variety of dry goods. Cloth of every color and texture, footwear to suit every occasion, thick rope and silken cords, parchment and quills and inks, bladed instruments for the kitchen and the fields of battle, paints of all colors and every size and shape of brush imaginable, jewelry and ornaments of gold and silver and precious stones, skillfully embroidered or woven tapestries and carpets – it was nigh impossible to think of anything the market of Tirion did not provide.

Legolas and Elladan laughed as their young charge ran from one stall to another, staring raptly at everything on display. He was even more delighted when Legolas presented him with a berry tart, one of his favorite sweets, while Elladan procured cups of cool fruit nectar for all three of them.

They eventually had the pleasure to bump into Gimli and the Hobbits who had sallied forth from their cozy house to replenish their larders; it was not surprising that there was more than one pantry in a home designed for Hobbits. Bilbo was busy selecting breakfast victuals at one stall while nearby, Sam fussily picked over mushrooms and carrots for a stew he planned to cook for their evening meal. Frodo, on the other hand, was engaged in a debate with Gimli at the meat stall, the Hobbittrying to convince the Dwarf of the merits of venison over wild boar.

Merry greetings were exchanged all around as soon as they discovered each other's presence. Bilbo plopped down a basketful of bread, butter and cheese, beaming with satisfaction at his purchases.

"I will say this for elven markets," he declared with a grin. "The goods aren't overpriced, the quality is always excellent and no one tries to cheat you!"

"Not to mention that it never stinks," Sam added with a chuckle.

"Which is more than I can say about the markets of Rohan or Gondor for that matter," Gimli put in gruffly. "Even Aragorn could not fix that problem!"

About to bite into a toothsome cream pastry Frodo had handed him, Elrohir looked up in surprise. "You knew Elessar well, Gimli?" he queried.

Elladan swiftly replied: "But of course, _tôr neth_. Gimli was one of the Company of Nine."

Elrohir stared at the Dwarf with even more respect. "I did not know that," he said. "_Ada_ mentioned a Dwarf but he did not say 'twas you."

Gimli could not quite hide his displeasure at having been unwittingly left unnamed by Master Elrond after all these years. The Hobbits guffawed at his discomfiture.

"And who else did your father forget to tell you about?" Bilbo inquired.

Elrohir shrugged. "I know about Mithrandir and Aragorn of course. And there was another man, I think."

"Boromir, the heir of the Steward of Gondor," Elladan supplied.

Elrohir looked confused. "But I thought it was Faramir who served Elessar as Steward and that Boromir was his son," he said.

"Boromir died during the Quest," Legolas quietly explained. "And so his brother Faramir became Steward instead. He named his firstborn son after his brother."

Elrohir shook his head. "It seems _Ada_ has been remiss in his teachings," he said. "Though he was quite thorough about the Hobbits in the Company." He looked at Frodo. "I should have liked to have met Merry and Pippin," he told the Ring-bearer. "Legolas told me they were much fun to be with."

A slightly pensive gleam flickered in the Hobbit's eyes. "That they were," he agreed. "And loyal and valorous besides. They were my good friends as well as my cousins."

"You must miss them terribly," Elrohir said sympathetically.

"We all do," Frodo said with a smile for the Elfling. "But we try to remember the happy times we had with them and that is often enough to comfort us."

Elrohir frowned "I try to think of the happy times I've had with Legolas but I still feel sad when he goes home," he said honestly. "Why doesn't it work for me?"

Frodo glanced at the Elven prince; both he and Bilbo had long been informed of Legolas' relationship with Elrohir. The archer could not quite conceal the pleasure the child's statement gave him. With a grin, the Hobbit turned his attention back to the waiting Elf-knight.

"It doesn't work all the time," he said. "You can be so close to someone that memories are not enough to make you feel better if you aren't with that someone."

Elrohir thought about it then nodded. "Aye, it isn't enough for me," he said. "I like being with Legolas all the time."

He flashed a sweet, trusting smile at the archer. Legolas swallowed hard and just barely managed to stifle the impulse to sweep the child into his arms and bestow a multitude of affectionate kisses upon him. He felt a comforting hand on his arm and looked down into Gimli's understanding eyes. He collected himself and warmly returned Elrohir's smile.

"Well, eat your pastry," Bilbo briskly said to the Elfling. "And come along with us. We're going to buy apples and blueberries for pies. You should taste my pies. The very best they were in Hobbiton and that's no empty boast!"

Elladan and Legolas watched as Elrohir happily accompanied the Hobbits and Gimli to one of the fruit stalls. At length, the twin regarded the archer musingly. Legolas was looking at Elrohir rather wistfully.

"What is wrong, _gwador_?"—sworn brother—he asked.

Legolas turned shadowed eyes on him. "I miss my mate," he whisperingly admitted.

Elladan looked at him with curiously veiled eyes. "Yet he is returned," he said.

"Aye, but with no memory of our past together," Legolas sighed. "And even the love I once felt through our bond is changed. I just realized that the last I knew it was on the dawn of his birth." His eyes suddenly glittered. "It was so strong that it awakened me that day. I have not felt it since. It is as if our binding channel has been blocked."

Sympathy limned the Elvenlord's gaze. "You do comprehend that it is necessary," he said. "No child can be burdened with the feelings and desires that a binding elicits. Paticularly the desires of the body."

"I know that," Legolas said. "And thus I oft wonder why the Powers did not simply release him as he was when he passed away."

Elladan shook his head. "We cannot question the Valar's reasons for choosing this way for him," he gently pointed out. "But even beyond that there is the value of rebirth. 'Tis said it allows more complete healing than simple re-embodiment. The spirit is rejuvenated and the body strengthened because of the second conception and growth to majority. His eternal flame will burn more brightly and fiercely because of this."

Legolas was silent for a space. "I cannot wish for anything less than the best for Elrohir," he finally acceded. "If the Valar deem this the right path for him then so be it. But I am still lonely for his love, Elladan, more so now that he can no longer express it to me. Even for a single lover's touch do I yearn so deeply that I feel no peace of heart or soul. I am like him; the memories are not always enough to assuage the longing."

Elladan looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you so needful that you need another's comforting?" he asked cautiously. At the archer's startled glance at him, he said, "You are probably the most sought-after Elf in Eldamar at present." Legolas flushed. He was all too aware of the covetous gazes that had followed him all afternoon. "And mayhap the loneliest. I would not blame you were you to seek company while you await Elrohir's majority."

Legolas abruptly glared at him. "Do you think me so faithless that I would betray my vow to him?" he snapped.

Elladan raised placating hands. "I did not mean to impugn your fidelity or integrity, Legolas," he said. "But I am aware of the terrible burden you bear. Loneliness can drive us to do things we would otherwise not even consider. Even one as valiant as you."

Legolas swallowed hard. "I am indeed terribly lonely," he said somewhat bitterly. "But to couple with another for no reason other than to answer a need will be far more injurious to my heart and soul. I belong to Elrohir alone. I cannot share what is his with any other. Nor do I desire to."

He was surprised when Elladan suddenly hugged him tightly. When the warrior drew back, there was no mistaking the relief in his countenance. "I confess, _gwanur_, that I have feared for some time that you would fail in your resolve and do something you would rue evermore," he admitted. "'Tis not for Elrohir's sake that I harbored anxieties but for yours. I know you, Legolas. You would never forgive yourself for transgressing against him with another _Edhel_. I did not want to witness your eternal self-debasement for something wrought of suffering and not true wanting."

For a moment, the archer stared at his law-brother nonplussed. And then he understood how concerned Elladan had been about him but had skillfully hidden it so as not to further trouble him. He found himself smiling albeit wanly.

"Do not worry overmuch about me, _gwanur_," he softly assured the warrior. "I am needful of love but only _his_ love. No other will suffice."

His smile turned luminous as he espied the Hobbits and Gimli returning. And his Elf-knight. He glanced at Elladan again, blue eyes sparkling with renewed vigor.

"Only his," he repeated. And he swept Elrohir into a tender embrace as the young Elf ran up to him.

Glossary:  
hervenn – husband  
Ada – Papa  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
tôr neth – younger brother  
Edhel – Elf

_To be continued_…


	145. Aduial 13 Perchance to Dream

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XII: Perchance to Dream  
Elrohir and Elladan celebrated their shared begetting day with a lively picnic by the cascades of Artirion, a choice very much in accordance with their predilection for informal but fellowship-filled social affairs. In attendance were family and a few select friends whose company Elrond's family treasured. Counted among these were Gimli and the three Halflings who, as usual, made short work of the bountiful feast laid out before them; not to mention quaffed more than their share of potent Maltaurean ale of which Celeborn and Galadriel had brought a generous quantity. It was very much an intimate gathering filled with affection for the celebrants and mirth at their not unexpected antics.

It was with wonder and some amusement that many of the guests regarded the brethren. The sight of fifteen-year-old Elrohir ensconced in three-thousand-plus Elladan's lap amazed even the older twin's children. But how else could one react to the image of their father cuddling a younger, smaller version of himself, a unique picture of twins at widely disparate ages?

"If anyone had told me I would behold such a wondrous thing I would have called him delusional," Elros remarked as he lazily nestled in Lindir's embrace.

"You should talk," Elendir grinned. He was munching on a juicy peach. "I imagine it must be even more strange for those who saw _Ada_ and Uncle grow up together in Imladris. Am I not right, Lindir?"

Elladan's chief steward nodded. "I was speaking with Glorfindel and Erestor about it just this morning," he said. "Every first sight of them never fails to startle us into speechlessness."

Legolas, however, found the effect quite charming and it was with great pleasure that he finally presented his gifts to the brothers. And when said gifts were led forth by his retainers, they elicited admiring gasps from just about everyone present.

To Elladan he gave a magnificent midnight-hued stallion sired by one of Thranduil's prized studs. But for Elrohir, there was a lively silvery grey colt, brother to Elladan's steed. Both twins were elated by their gifts but Elrohir, in his extreme youth, was more forthcoming in his display of gratitude.

He joyously launched himself into Legolas' arms, hugged him fervently, then demanded to mount his present at once. The prince gingerly lifted him onto the colt, which, as though recognizing its new owner, immediately ceased its restless pawing and became as gentle as a newborn lamb.

"What will you name him?" Elrond asked his youngest child with an indulgent smile.

"I am not sure," the Elfling replied, screwing up his comely face in thought. "What do you think, Legolas?"

The archer beamed, pleased to be consulted before anyone else. Remembering Elrohir's warhorse in Middle-earth, he suggested, "How about 'Tinnu'?"

"The time of twilight when the stars are at their brightest," Elladan reminded his brother, admiring the way the archer introduced the old name.

Elrohir grinned. "Tinnu," he repeated. "Aye, that is perfect, Legolas! I knew you would think of just the right name." He looked so worshipfully at the prince it made the latter's heart virtually melt to mush.

"_Ada_? You promised me I could have anything I wished for today," Elrohir said to Elrond.

"Within reason," Elrond prudently allowed. There was no telling what the boy might ask for if the choices of his former life were anything to go by.

"May I go with Legolas when he returns to Taur Galen?" he wheedled. "I have not gone there yet."

Elrond and Celebrían looked from their son to the prince, somewhat taken aback. They were even more nonplussed when Legolas did not look surprised in the least at the request.

"I presume he spoke of this to you?" Elrond commented.

Legolas nodded. "I saw no harm in acceding to his request," he admitted. "But I told him he needed your permission first. I promise I will take good care of him."

He bit his lip, unsure whether they would permit him to take Elrohir with him to his father's realm. After all, the Elfling was very young and had not ventured further from home than the shores of Eldamar.

Celebrían smiled with understanding. "We know you will take utmost care of him," she gently answered. "And in truth, you have as much claim to him as we do," she softly added. "Mayhap even more."

Legolas blushed at the implied meaning behind her statement. Thankfully, Celebrían had kept her voice low enough for her words to elude Elrohir's hearing. The archer smiled shyly at his once-and-future law-parents. Elrond was even regarding him with paternal fondness.

"I will bring him back soonest," the prince offered.

"Nay, Legolas," Elrond quietly demurred. "He may stay with you for as long as either of you wish." The Elf-lord's eyes gleamed with compassion for the prince.

Legolas' smile grew even wider. He glanced at Elrohir who had listened to his father's words with increasing disbelief and glee.

"As long as we wish?" he reiterated excitedly.

"Aye, _ion nîn_"—my son—Elrond affirmed.

Elrohir laughed in sheer delight. "How about forever?" he teased Legolas with an impishness reminiscent of his boyhood in his first life.

The breath caught in the archer's throat. All innocently, Elrohir had voiced his deepest desire. "I would not mind," he softly replied, stoically enduring the knowing looks leveled at him

Elrohir departed with him for Taur Galen two days later. Only the Elfling's nurse, the ever-faithful Almáriel, accompanied her young charge. In choosing to allow their child to go virtually alone with Legolas, Elrond and Celebrían were making it clear to all just how much they trusted the prince. It was their subtle way of telling all Valinor that they still acknowledged and honored the binding between their child and Thranduil's son.

For Legolas, it was a magical period and a happy one. He brought Elrohir everywhere with him. Exploring the green wood by foot or on horse, teaching him to swim in the river at the forest's edge, even attending a few sessions in his father's court. And he also took him hunting, a first for the Elfling.

Though all Elves were skillful hunters by nature, the Wood-elves were the acknowledged masters of the chase. Long accustomed to hunting for their sustenance in Middle-earth, they did not now abandon the practice and thrived on the even more cunning beasts of Valinor. Elrohir learned firsthand how to stalk plump pheasant, elusive buck and ill-tempered wild boar and how to evade the menacing claws of Taur Galen's ferocious bears. In keeping with the fierce warrior he had once been and would one day again become, Elrohir loved every minute. He did Legolas proud and shocked the other hunters as he moved with almost preternatural stealth and precision, astonishing in an Elf barely removed from infancy.

One hunt, however, proved an unexpected catalyst, and marked the advent of far-reaching changes in Elrohir's life. Later, Legolas would ponder if the Valar had willed it to happen.

The little Elf-knight's demeanor had altered during the chase. He had looked about the forest with perplexity, his face screwing up as if trying to recall something. And then he had started when a _fileg_ had swooped down upon him without warning. Legolas could have sworn he saw real fear in the child's eyes though the latter, with typical Elrohirian pride, staunchly insisted that he was not in the least perturbed by such a small bird.

That night he had gone to bed early, tired out by the hunt. Legolas, confident of the boy's security under Almáriel's watchful eyes, had spent the better part of the evening in the company of his old friends, Heledir and Mithrael. It was near the midnight hour when he finally sauntered back to his home.

He was passing down the tree-lined pathway that led to his house when he heard the unexpected sounds of whimpers and sobs. Alarmed, he followed the sounds to one of the trees and peered around it. He was dumbfounded to discover a small figure huddled on the grass, tremors wracking its slender frame.

"Elrohir!" With tender concern, Legolas swiftly knelt before the Elfling and scooped him into his arms. At once, Elrohir flung his arms around his neck and buried his tear-streaked face in his shoulder.

"What is wrong?" Legolas whispered, hugging him tightly. "Why are you out here alone? Where is Almáriel?"

"I-I do not know," Elrohir wailed. "I woke up and she was not there."

Legolas swore inwardly. Where was the nurse? "What frightened you?" he murmured.

"I had a b-bad dream," Elrohir sniffled. "It was ho-horrible."

"What did you dream of?" Legolas asked gently, stroking the silky tresses reassuringly.

"I-I was in a dark fo-forest with Elladan," the child stammered. "We were stalking a deer when a-a scary monster with-with many legs attacked Elladan. I k-killed it but many more started to come! You arrived with other Elves to help us." He cringed visibly in the prince's arms. "But another beast came after me and then I-I woke up!"

Legolas felt a chill race up his spine. Elbereth, that was no dream, he thought. That actually happened. 'Twas the twins' first encounter with the spiders of Greenwood the Great!

"Legolas?" Elrohir quavered. "What were those monsters? I have never seen anything like them before."

"Aye, you have not," the prince agreed. "For they do not exist in Valinor. But in Middle-earth they are called 'spiders'."

"Spiders?" Elrohir's eyes widened in puzzlement. "But why did I dream of them? I have never seen any before."

"Are you certain?" Legolas probed gently. He wanted to allay the child's fears as much as possible. "Mayhap Elladan told you about them. He came across them in my old home of Eryn Galen."

Elrohir looked doubtful. "I do not remember any tales about spiders," he said. "And-and I looked strange in my dream," he added quaveringly.

"In what way?'

"I was—I was taller—bigger. I looked a lot like Elladan but I knew it was me." He clung to Legolas fearfully. "I am scared," he sobbed anew. "Why did I look like that?"

"I cannot say," Legolas carefully replied. "But do not be afraid, Elrohir. I am with you. I would never let you come to any harm, dearest one."

The child pulled back slightly and gazed at him, wondering at the unexpected endearment. Legolas swallowed hard. It was difficult staring into those twilight pools. They recalled too many memories of another life and a love well treasured.

But before either could speak again, Almáriel suddenly appeared, highly upset by the disappearance of her charge from his bed. Legolas rose to his feet, still holding Elrohir close in his arms. He frowned at the nurse, silently inquiring about her whereabouts.

"I am so sorry, my lord," she gasped, flustered, correctly discerning his expression. "I stepped out for a chat with some friends. I did not think he would wake up whilst I was gone."

"You should have informed me that he would be alone," Legolas said severely. The nurse flushed guiltily. The prince knew he was not being entirely fair. How could anyone foresee that Elrohir would relive a past event in the form of a nightmare? But he could not be fair. Not when the matter impinged on his Elf-knight's well being.

"It will not happen again," Almáriel murmured, chastened. She reached out to the Elfling. "Come, Elrohir, let us return to your room."

To their surprise, Elrohir drew back further into Legolas' embrace and defiantly said, "I want to stay with Legolas."

"Now, now, _hirneth_"—lordling— Almáriel crooned soothingly. "You cannot stay with his Highness."

"But I want to!" Elrohir insisted. He looked pleadingly at Legolas. "Can I not stay with you?"

Before the prince could answer, Almáriel intervened. "Nay, Elrohir, 'tis not right. Prince Legolas may not want your presence in his chambers tonight."

"Why not?" Elrohir shot back, mouth pouting mutinously. It was all Legolas could do not to laugh.

"Well, because—because—" Almáriel floundered for a good reason. Alarmed at the dawning triumph in her impudent charge's countenance, she uttered the first thing she could think of that made any sense. "Well, his Highness may have other company tonight!"

The Elfling's eyes rounded so alarmingly that Legolas flicked a reproving glare at Almáriel who in turn wilted visibly. She should have known better than to upset Elrohir before the prince and with such an absurd and altogether impossible suggestion at that.

"Other company?" Elrohir repeated tremulously. "You mean like Elladan and Nimeithel?"

Legolas drew his breath in sharply. So young yet so aware of such matters, he thought. He felt the child's gaze on him before it turned back to Almáriel. All unexpectedly, he bawled, "But-but Legolas is mine!"

Both prince and nurse gaped at him. Swimming grey eyes met the archer's azure gaze.

Elrohir sniffed. "You—you don't have someone waiting for you, do you?" he whimpered.

Legolas let a slow breath out. He regarded Elrohir with solemn tenderness. "Nay, dearest, there is no one," he softly assured him. "Of course, you may stay with me tonight. And any other night that you should need me," he added decisively.

"But, _hir nîn_—!"—my lord!

A severe stare quelled the nurse's protests. Elrohir's face brightened up considerably now that his champion had come down squarely on his side. "You are mine, aren't you," he reiterated, more confident than ever of his place with the prince.

The blue eyes softened immeasurably. "Aye, Elrohir, I am yours," Legolas agreed with a tender smile.

He heard Almáriel's shocked intake of breath, knew what she would make of his words. But he did not particularly care. Elrohir, tears forgotten, turned a victorious beaming countenance upon his beleaguered nurse.

"He is mine!" he smugly informed her then buried his face securely in the archer's neck.

The prince spared the stunned _elleth_ a belated sympathetic glance before walking to the house, Elrohir snug in the circle of his arms.

That night, he barely slept a wink. It felt so much more restful to his mind and heart to simply lie in bed, Elrohir sheltered in the curve of his body, happily cocooned in his protective embrace. Besides, his thoughts were in a whirl as he reviewed the series of coincidences that had occurred from the minute he'd found Elrohir to the moment he carried him into his room.

The Elfling had studied his bedchamber with wide-eyed fascination. He'd then turned to look at the archer and remarked, "I've never been here before."

"Well, you never had a reason before," Legolas smiled.

The child then beamed and smugly proclaimed, "I do now!"

That had stunned Legolas. It was eerily alike to the exchange he'd had with Elrohir that fateful night in Ithilien. The night the Elf-knight had seduced him anew. As with the nightmare about the spiders of Greenwood, was this also a part of the twin's awakening memories?

Elrohir had distracted him with another declaration. "Your bedchamber is so big," he observed. "There's enough room for two Elves. Why are you alone, Legolas?"

The prince chuckled, amused by the child's insight. "I thought you did not want me to share my room with anyone," he reminded the Elfling.

"I do not," Elrohir agreed vigorously. "Unless 'tis with me!"

Legolas heaved a sigh at his Elf-knight's all too precocious pronouncements. Small wonder Elrond and Celebrían oft spoke of the twins' childhood years with mixed parental pride and befuddled exasperation. If Elrohir's current statements were any indication of what used to spill out of the brethren's mouths when they were babes, then their beleaguered parents had Legolas' heartiest if belated sympathy.

The Elfling then refused to let him out of his sight even for a minute lest the dreaded spiders appeared out of the blue and attacked him. Not even to shed his clothing for nightwear did Elrohir give him leave to go into his bathing chamber. So he undressed as swiftly as he could and slipped into a loose bed-shirt and trousers under the wide-eyed gaze of Elrohir. When he settled beside the young Elf, the latter regarded him with considerable awe.

"You are beautiful!" he pronounced with innocent admiration. "Even more than Elladan, I think!"

Legolas had found himself caught between amusement at the childish observation that was wrought at the expense of the older twin and mingled pride and amazement that Elrohir should be cognizant of such things at so young an age. It certainly recalled the twin's carnal appetite in his first life.

Legolas drew a deep breath. Just five and thirty more years before I can reclaim you, he mused, gazing raptly at the now slumbering child.

The passage of time oft flowed swiftly for those of Elf-kind and thirty-five years was but a drop in the ocean of eternity. But for one who so desperately yearned for his reward at the end of that period, it seemed as sluggish as the creeping magma that had once poured forth from the molten core of Orodruin.

Glossary:  
Ada - Papa  
elleth - Elf-maid

_To be continued_…


	146. Aduial 14 The Slow Road

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIII: The Slow Road  
Eldamar F.A. 172  
Roaming lips marked his fair skin. Knowing hands mapped his lean frame.

_Calenlass nîn_.

He moaned as he was filled, cried out as he was delved repeatedly.

_Melethron_.

His aching length was clasped and stroked until finally he spent himself in an explosion of exquisite sensation.

Legolas jerked awake, gasping raggedly in the wake of so rousing a dream. Elbereth! Why did he have to dream thus and so often? He groaned in frustration. He threw aside the covers, got out of bed and snatched up the now soiled sheet angrily.

It was more than a dozen years since he had last shared his bed with the young Elf-knight. When Elrohir had passed his first two decades, Legolas had realized it was unwise to continue being in such close and intimate proximity to him. Elrohir had been precocious in his previous childhood; that precociousness had not changed with his return from the timeless halls. Even Elladan had agreed that it was no longer proper for his brother to sleep in the archer's bed.

Legolas sighed. He could still recall how upset Elrohir's nurse Almáriel had been when he first took her charge into his night's keeping. He could not blame her.

The last time in Valinor's history that Elves had borne witness to their spouses growing up from infancy into adulthood was after the kinslayings. Since then, there had been no further deaths amongst _Edhil_ in the Blessed Realm. It was the Firstborn of Middle-earth who had filled the Halls of Awaiting all these long ages. And since those who were adjudged worthy of release were reborn long before the arrival of their mates on the shores of Aman, there had been no recent instances of a surviving spouse waiting out the growth and return of memories of his or her mate. Legolas and Elrohir's situation was therefore unique in the present age.

Small wonder that their closeness was viewed with confusion and some unease by some quarters. Even when it had become clear that Legolas had no intention of flouting custom and pressuring the Elf-knight into recalling all of his past, many still regarded the relationship between the archer and his swiftly maturing binding-mate with discomfort.

It had been permissible when Elrohir had been but a child. But what had once been a wholly innocent intimacy could now turn into something else and, reborn or not, the younger twin was still in his minority and therefore not to be touched in that manner even by his own spouse.

This stricture had burdened Legolas' already troubled heart. It had been hard to give up the comfort of having Elrohir so close by. Loneliness had closed in on him in full measure once more when he'd ceased to allow his Elf-knight into bed with him. His dreams had begun about then.

Legolas replaced the stained sheet with a fresh one, stripped off his damp nightclothes, then clambered back into bed. What his servants would make of the soiled items in the morning was no longer of import. They'd seen evidence of his nocturnal problem frequently enough in the past several years to have gotten used to it. And all members of his staff in Ithilien, they were loyal, discreet and sympathetic and spoke not a word of his distress to anyone outside of his immediate household, not even to his family.

Before he drifted back into slumber, one consoling thought occurred to him. He was visiting Artirion the following day. He would be with Elrohir once more. The thought soothed his lonely soul and, this time, when he slept, his dreams were of a more chaste nature.

oOoOoOo

As he rode down the wide path into the vale of Artirion, Legolas pondered the recollections that had disrupted Elrohir's life in the past several years. Since experiencing the nightmare about the spiders of Greenwood the Great, the young Elf-knight had been bedeviled by dreams and visions of places and events in Middle-earth.

Golden-leafed, silver-barked trees east of the Great Sea. A multileveled city cradled by a mountain and before it, on a vast plain, an enormous army replete with siege machines. His mother's torment at the hands of bestial creatures. A dark, close forest where Elves battled more of the many-legged monsters that had so frightened him. But most of all, a river bordered, pine-scented valley to the west of a towering mist-covered mountain range.

Rather than frighten him with the revelation of his death and rebirth, his loved ones had allayed his confusion with the explanation that his visions came of the influence of the tales told him of the Hither Lands. After all, he was a scion of a family fulsomely gifted in the mind-arts. It was possible he had inadvertently picked up on others' thoughts and emotions.

Elrohir had accepted the explanation initially, trusting in his elders' wisdom and recognizing their concern for him. But in the last three years he had stopped being so accepting and had started to question the significance of his dreams. Were they only the reflections of others' imaginings?

It had been a difficult period for everyone. How to satisfy the Elf-knight's curiosity without prematurely subjecting him to the inevitable trauma of learning the truth? They had been forced to resort to dissimulation and evasion in order to spare him just a little longer.

Legolas came out of his reverie as his steed cantered up to the arched entrance of the courtyard of Elrond's halls. He smiled as he espied the young Elf racing out to meet him as he rode into the large and circular stone-paved space. Elrohir never failed to be the first to welcome him to his father's halls.

But he was soon shocked when he noted the pallor of the youth's face as he neared. And when Elrohir flew into his arms as soon as he dismounted and buried his face in his chest, he knew something was definitely wrong.

Before he could question the lad, he saw Elladan approaching as well. The older twin looked as pale as his brother.

Elrohir raised a troubled countenance and blurted out: "Legolas, I-I am one of the reborn!"

The stunned archer stared at him then up at Elladan. The twin nodded in acknowledgement of the prince's silent query.

"We had to tell him," he explained. "He remembered the night we declared our choice."

Legolas drew in his breath slowly. "Ai, dearest one, I can see why you are upset," he addressed Elrohir.

"Elladan and I were – are twins," Elrohir whispered. "I had always wondered why others regarded us so strangely but now I understand." He swallowed hard. "All my dreams and visions – they make sense now. I was not imagining them but remembering my – my past life."

He looked up at Legolas, shaking visibly. "They refuse to tell me how I – how I died," he gulped. "Can you tell me?"

Legolas paled. "Nay, Elrohir, I cannot," he said almost hoarsely. He closed his eyes of a sudden, the memory of that grief-drenched morn looming with acute vividness in his mind.

"Legolas?" Elrohir gazed at him in alarm. "What is wrong?"

"Legolas and I were present at your passing," Elladan said abruptly. "It pains us overmuch to even think of it much less speak of it. Please, _gwanneth_, let it come to you at the right time."

Elrohir looked from his brother to the prince, his eyes now frightened. "But what if I remember it when I am alone?" he whispered.

Legolas felt a chill snake its way up his spine. He looked across at Elladan. The older twin had also flinched inwardly at his brother's expressed fear.

No wonder Elrohir was so upset. The two he most trusted, with whom he felt most secure, did not live in his father's house. Legolas dwelt in Taur Galen while Elladan and Nimeithel resided in a neighboring domicile. Close by but still separate.

Legolas swiftly made up his mind. Elladan had a family. It would be difficult for him to uproot his household and move back into Elrond's halls. But Legolas was beholden to no one in Taur Galen. And it was near enough to visit any time should the necessity arise.

"If your parents permit it, I will dwell in Artirion until you recall that event," he softly offered.

Elrohir gasped then gazed at him in elation. "Will you truly?" he implored.

"I must ask your father's leave first," Legolas said.

Elladan smiled gratefully at the prince. "I do not see a problem with your suggestion, _gwanur_"—brother—he said. "You are kin and welcome any time and for as long as you desire. And 'tis not as if you will share the same bedchamber after all."

Legolas sighed and nodded his acknowledgement of the subtle reminder. Meanwhile, Elrohir beamed with patent relief at both of them.

"I will tell _Ada_ that 'twas I who asked this of you," he decided. "He will not refuse me." His confidence elicited smiles from his brother and the archer.

When the young Elf shook anew in his embrace, Legolas asked with concern, "What is it?"

Elrohir bit his lip and lifted glistening eyes to him. "I also remembered what happened to Arwen," he said. "And that Elessar – was Estel."

Legolas went still as did Elladan. The older twin sighed and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing it consolingly.

"Come, let us walk to the cascades," he suggested. "Just the three of us. You can tell Legolas what else you remembered."

Elrohir nodded then suddenly started. "The three of us," he repeated. "That was the way of it for us, wasn't it? In Imladris and Mirkwood when it was still Eryn Galen." He stared at the archer. "You were our best friend, Legolas!"

Legolas shared a quick look with Elladan. The older twin nodded and said, "Aye, he was. And he still is."

Elrohir glanced at his brother then turned his eyes back to Legolas. "I understand now," he whispered. "'Tis no wonder I feel I can trust you in anything."

He pressed his face against the base of the prince's neck, innocently nuzzling the slight hollow therein in his need for comfort and affection.

Legolas just barely managed to quell the quiver in his body at the intimate contact. It was so hard not to declare outright that friendship was not the only thing he and the younger twin had shared. Elrohir in his thirty-third year already possessed the comeliness Legolas had found so utterly irresistible.

Though still a child on the cusp of adolescence, the Elf-knight was the very image of beauty, grace and agility. Not for him the awkwardness and uncertainty of early youth but a fluidity and confidence beyond his years.

Suddenly, Legolas comprehended how the twins had come by their reputation as virtuosos of the martial and carnal arts back in Middle-earth so early in their lives. The self-assurance with which they had met life head on had virtually ensured that they would master just about anything they put their minds to and do it swiftly, too.

Even now he beckons to me, Legolas thought in mingled awe and apprehension. The temptation to compel the twin to lift his face and meet his lips in a plundering caress was almost overwhelming. His eyes met Elladan's once more.

The warrior instantly perceived his turmoil, saw the barely veiled desire in the sapphire pools. Understanding his friend's dilemma, he swiftly moved to break the spell his brother had unknowingly cast upon the prince.

"Come, _muindor_"—brother—he softly invited, gently disengaging his twin from the archer. "Let us walk to the cascades together."

Elrohir nodded and turned to his brother, missing the look of relief on Legolas' face.

The three of them made their way into the forest and headed for the falls. There they settled themselves beneath the beeches and the younger twin related to the prince what had befallen him in the previous week. Of the dreams that had unlocked yet another door in the myriad passages of his fragmented recollections.

The arrival of the Ring in Rivendell and the forging of the Fellowship.

The dreadful journey through the Paths of the Dead and the fierce battles on the Pelennor Fields and before the Black Gate of Mordor.

The joyful wedding of Elessar and the Evenstar followed by his and Elladan's choice to be of Elvenkind.

Eldarion's birth in Minas Tirith and glimpses of his nephew's childhood years.

Finally, he spoke of his memories of the sister he and Elladan had lost to love and the foster brother he had cherished despite his mortality. Of watching the latter pass away and witnessing the fading of the former though she had refused to let her brothers remain with her to the end. So woebegone was his countenance when he finished that Legolas forgot his physical yearnings and drew him into his arms simply to give him solace.

"She-she is gone," Elrohir choked mournfully. "And Estel, too." He trembled in the prince's arms. "We will never see them again."

Legolas stroked his dark head soothingly. "The spirits of Men leave the circles of the world upon their passing," he quietly said. "Only Manwë and Námo know where they abide. But 'tis said they join Eru the One and that we shall all be gathered together again at the ending of the world."

"What about Eldarion? Does-does he still live?" The question was asked fearfully.

Elladan reached out and rubbed his back comfortingly. Like his father, Aragorn, Eldarion had worshipped Elrohir in his youth. "He is of the _Edain_ and also of our line, Elrohir, and therefore even more long-lived than Estel. 'Tis most likely that he still reigns in Gondor."

"I hope so," the boy whispered. He burrowed further into the prince's embrace, seeking the warmth and security of their eternal friendship.

Legolas swallowed hard, once more feeling the treacherous desire rise up within him. But he could not deny Elrohir his comfort now. Shaking his head imperceptibly at Elladan's silent offer to extricate him again from Elrohir's tempting proximity, he stifled his passion and continued to hold the young Elf close. And when grateful twilight eyes lifted up to him, he found some measure of comfort and peace for himself.

Glossary:  
Calenlass nîn – my Greenleaf  
melethron – lover  
gwanneth – younger twin  
Edhil - Elves  
Ada - Papa  
gwanur - brother or sister but a more accurate tranlastion would be kinsman or kisnwoman

_To be continued_…


	147. Aduial 15 Passages

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIV: Passages  
Tirion F.A. 179  
The sounds of strife seemed strangely incongruous in the supposed everlasting peace of Aman. But in truth, such sounds were familiar and of no great import to the citizens of Tirion so long as they emanated from the wide public exercise court on the outskirts of the city.

Though war did not stain the Blessed Realm, the Elves who made the journey from Middle-earth did not forsake the arts of warfare they had so assiduously cultivated in the Hinter Lands. Millennia of life without certitude had ingrained in them the need to be prepared. Who knew if another Dark Lord might rise to mar the peace of Valinor? And discord could never be completely eradicated, not even in Aman.

To this opinion, the sons of Elrond wholeheartedly subscribed. Elladan had continued to maintain his hard-won, much admired skills whilst Elrohir had plunged eagerly into the lessons that would help him regain the form and talents that had made him such a fearsome foe in his former life.

An enthusiastic student of all manner of combat and weaponry, he swiftly developed the warrior's frame Legolas had admired and once knew so intimately. It would only take the honing full maturity would bestow to fully bring him to the sleek, muscular form that inspired covetousness in male and female Elves alike.

The brethren did not make it their habit to draw attention to themselves. Most of the time, they chose to train in the drill yard beside the barracks of Artirion. But every once in a while, they took to the exercise court of Tirion because of the opportunity to spar with Elves other than Glorfindel's warriors. Today was one of those days.

Elladan had taken his younger brother and sons to the court early to avoid the crowds of non-combatants that tended to congregate whenever they showed up. In recent years, fascination with the Peredhil had increased in direct proportion to the number of the latest arrivals from the Hither Lands. The Elves who had made the journey west from Elrond's time up to the last of the Imladrins' advent had tended to be reticent about the family's part in the events that had shaken Middle-earth. But the later comers were not.

All Sindar or Silvan, they had sought a means to establish themselves as equals of the resident Eldar of Valinor. In the Peredhil they found their champions; worthy examples of the valour and glory of those who had not seen the Two Trees yet lived and served to the fullest of their admirable abilities. Thus, detailed tales of Elrond and his sons' exploits had begun to circulate in Elvenhome at last – with predictable results. Whatever prejudices some Elves may have harbored against them slowly diminished until they were all but negligible. And admiration swiftly grew. As well as interest in the re-born Elf-knight.

Elrond and Elladan were wed, Elros long betrothed and Elendir lately seen in constant company with one comely Noldorin maiden; there was talk of another betrothal in the air. But Elrohir was free and just ten years short of his coming-of-age.

True, he was bound to Taur Galen's prince. But until he regained all his memories, he was, for all intents and purposes, available. As was the custom of the Firstborn, he was allowed to rediscover his past at his own pace and in his own time. And he would be permitted to relive his earlier years as he had passed through those same years in Middle-earth. If that included learning all over again the nuances of courtship and intimate relationships, that was permissible. For so long as he did not recall his binding, it would not be considered a transgression against his mate.

In effect, all his oaths, marital and otherwise, would be held in suspension until the time when his spirit remembered them. Until then, he would not be held culpable for any vow breaking he might commit. This was the proverbial thorn in Legolas' side.

Ideally, a re-born Elf regained most if not all of his memories by his majority but this was by no means an ironclad occurrence. Some memories could emerge well beyond the fiftieth year. There simply were no guarantees of what or when recollections would surface. But the archer was not allowed by custom or ethics to remind Elrohir of their love or espousal. That would place unwarranted pressure on the younger twin. Yet he would be forced to grant his mate the freedom to explore his world, to go through his paces all over again--even it that meant enduring the pain of watching him share himself with others once he reached his majority.

He oft wondered how the Elves of times past had borne that hurt. But then again, the Elves of times past had not been as libidinous as the twins had been in their carefree youth. He doubted any Elf in the centuries after the kinslayings had endured what he would undoubtedly go through. At least, not in such woeful abundance. It was something he had yet to learn to steel himself against.

He was present this morn at the court as was Gimli. The Dwarf enjoyed employing his axe in martial practice now and then. Not for him the retirement from the battle-readiness of a veteran warrior. Valinor had rejuvenated him and he was always ready to wield his considerable skills in the name of keeping his edge. Not to mention show some snooty Elves a thing or two about the perils of facing a dwarven axe.

Legolas, too, had taken to the field, finding it all too easy to gain sparring partners amongst his many unwanted admirers. Avoiding those who dared to press their suits, he chose Elves who did not cross the line from simple appreciation into outright aggression. But now he was done and he joined Gimli on the court's perimeter to observe and comment on others' performances.

"The re-born Peredhel is beautiful."

Legolas stiffened slightly at the admiring utterance from behind him tinged as it was with the slightest bit of lewdness. At his side, Gimli took a quick look backwards then glanced up at him with concern. A young Noldo had made the comment to a warrior maid formerly of Lindon. She answered him in like strains.

"He will be even more beautiful when he attains his maturity. Not to mention talented."

A suggestive snicker answered her comment. "Ah, I take it you have some experience of it?"

"Aye."

"I have heard tales of the brethren. Surely they are exaggerated?"

"I should say not! Ask any of the Galadhrim for their opinions. I assure you, the tales are true."

"Then let us pray his memories of his time with our golden prince will be late in returning!"

"Nay, I would pray they never return at all!"

Frigid with fury, Legolas slowly turned around and leveled his gaze on the errant Elves. Caught in the middle of lubricious laughter, the two sensed his glacial regard; they flinched with some alarm. The glitter in Legolas' eyes told them that he would not forget them and that he was most capable of wreaking havoc on them if they dared to act on their unsaid intentions. They hastily moved away.

Legolas felt Gimli's hand on his arm. "Do not let them trouble you," the Dwarf counselled. "I am quite certain naught will come of their desires."

Legolas trembled angrily as he watched the two Elves leave. "You did not know Elrohir in his first youth," he said tightly.

"Nay, but I know him now," Gimli quipped.

The prince turned a puzzled gaze on his friend. "What bearing does that have on this?"

"Only that he esteems you so highly, I believe he would inhibit himself rather than settle for less."

"Less than what?" Legolas asked in surprise.

Gimli chuckled. "Only a blind Elf or a bird-wit would not mark how much you are sought by half the unbound Elves of Eldamar," he pointed out. "And for good reason. I would not be surprised should Elrohir's idea of perfection be your very self, my friend. Think you he would care for anything less than perfection having been exposed to it since infancy?"

Legolas caught his breath. Suddenly he remembered his Elf-knight's oft-repeated words to him. You are the closest thing to perfection I have ever known. For the longest while, Legolas stared at the Dwarf. And then he smiled, the sweetness of it making even Gimli's gruff soul melt somewhat.

"You are indeed a blessing, dear Gimli," the archer said softly. "Though I cannot trust that all will turn out to my liking, your words comfort me nevertheless."

This time Gimli grinned with pleasure. "I did make a promise to him," he said. He ambled away to watch an interesting wrestling match on the far end of the court.

Legolas' smile did not fade as he turned his attention back to Elrohir. His eyes gleamed with pride when he realized the twin was engaged in knife-play with a young Tirion Elf. His every movement bespoke the disciplined grace of a true warrior, the fluidity and swiftness of his strokes and turns evincing a rapidly emerging mastery that was inborn and not merely learned.

As oft happened in these instances, Legolas found himself responding to Elrohir's allure. Such was the Elf-knight's hold on his affections and desire that he could not help but yearn for their intimacy of yore. Getting a hold of himself, Legolas tamped down on his desirous reactions to the younger twin and staunchly reminded himself that he had to wait just a few more seasons. Nevertheless, it was hard going when Elrohir continued to grow in beauty, wisdom and skill.

He glanced to his side when an Elf brushed against him. Suggestively so. Legolas gritted his teeth. It was not the first time that someone had dared to flirt so egregiously with him. But he disliked it just the same. He had always been reserved and selective in such matters before Elrohir won his heart. It had never been his way to be forward whether he was doing the wooing or not.

When the Elf repeated the action, he scowled and turned to give him a piece of his mind. But before he could say a word, a knife sped past between him and his amorous stalker to embed itself in the tree behind them. The other Elf stared at it in shock then jerked his head about in time to see Elrohir stride up to them.

The Elf-knight's lips were turned up in a smile but his eyes did not reflect it. He wordlessly yanked his knife out of the tree trunk then glanced at the would-be interloper.

"I believe Prince Legolas desires to be left alone," he coolly said. He slammed his knife back into its sheath.

The Elf paled and, with a stammered apology, retreated. Legolas noted with a grin that others who had intended to approach him were now having second thoughts about doing so. He became aware of Elrohir's scrutiny and looked at the darkling lord.

"I trust you are pleased to be rid of him?" Elrohir mildly remarked.

Legolas nodded, smiling. "In this you have not changed, Elrohir," he commented.

"How so?"

Legolas chuckled softly. "You were never one for diplomacy if you could achieve your desire by a more direct path," he answered. At the incipient frown on the other's face, he added affectionately: "And I am more than glad of it."

The frown vanished to be supplanted by a smile. "It pleases me to help you, Legolas," he softly said. "In any way I can."

With that, he returned to his amazed sparring partner leaving Legolas to wonder how it was possible to love him even more than he did already.

oOoOoOo

The unexpected happened that very night. Legolas had just emerged from his bath and was donning a pair of night-trousers when he heard the cry of fear and confusion in his mind.

Alarmed, the prince threw on a bed-robe and raced to Elrohir's room. Entering hurriedly, he found the Elf-knight, already dressed for bed, half-hunched over his writing table, hugging himself as if he were in pain. A bottle of ink had fallen to the floor along with several sheets of parchment.

"Elrohir!" he exclaimed, hastening to the young Elf. "What ails you?"

Elrohir stumbled to his feet and reached out trembling hands to the prince, his eyes wide with shock and terror.

"It was Gilwen!" he gasped. "'Twas she who killed me!"

Legolas stared at him before catching him when he crumpled against him, his entire body shaking violently as he relived the tumult of his passing. Bewilderment compounded his terrible distress. He lowered Elrohir to the floor and knelt by him, holding him tightly.

Elrohir was panting in panic. "I remember the house in Osgiliath. We were about to leave when she offered us wine." He shuddered. "There was pain! Like fire rushing through my veins. And my head was spinning. Elladan said something to her – I cannot recall what – but he said she had poisoned me." He put his hand to his suddenly throbbing head.

"I do not understand," he moaned. "Why did it poison me? 'Twas only mandrake that she put in my wine if I recall it aright."

"You are not mistaken," Legolas said, stroking the younger twin's dark hair. "'Twas only mandrake but it poisoned you because you—"

He abruptly halted. He could not inflict that piece of information on Elrohir. He said instead, "Mayhap it had been brewed wrong."

"Nay," Elrohir protested, shaking his head. "I can remember its aftertaste. There was nothing wrong with it. It should not have killed me yet it did."

Legolas stared at him in some awe. His grief had been too overwhelming at the time to wonder at it but now he could fully appreciate this particular talent of his mate. He supposed it was not strange that Elrohir had recognized the flavor of the aphrodisiac even if masked by the wine. As Elrond's son, he would have been trained to identify virtually every herb and potion and medicament known to Elfdom by sight, taste, scent or texture.

He realized Elrohir was peering suspiciously at him. "That was not what you were going to say," the twin said. "What are you hiding from me, Legolas?"

"'Twas only a conjecture," Legolas smoothly evaded. "What else do you recall?" he queried, neatly leading Elrohir away from the subject.

Elrohir closed his eyes tightly, as if to shut out the images of that ordeal. "She ran to the wall. Elendir chased after her." His eyes snapped open filled with horror. "Valar! She threw herself into Anduin!"

"Aye, she killed herself," Legolas grimly confirmed. "Out of guilt and despair, no doubt."

"She-she loved me."

"Beyond sanity or rectitude."

"Elladan and the twins took me away. To you."

"'Twas your wish."

Elrohir glanced up at Legolas. The blue eyes had never looked so intense.

"You were grieving over me," the younger twin whispered. "You begged me not to leave you."

"I did," Legolas quietly admitted.

Elrohir's eyes glistened. "I made Gimli promise to take care of you for me."

"And he kept his oath."

Elrohir shuddered once more. He nestled his head against Legolas shoulder. "If you had not been here..." he whispered. After a moment, he lifted his head and looked at the archer curiously. "How did you know that I needed you?" he queried.

Legolas hesitated. He could not tell Elrohir of their bond. It was quite obvious that the Elf-knight still recalled nothing of it and had not even been aware that he had called to Legolas through it.

"I did not. I was only going to see if you wished to take a walk with me before we slept," he said, hoping the other Elf would not question him further.

Elrohir sighed and leaned against him once more. "Thank Eru you did," he murmured. "Please, do not leave me alone tonight. If I should dream of this..."

Legolas shook his head. "I will stay with you until you sleep," he said. "But after, I must inform your parents and Elladan of this."

Elrohir frowned but acceded. He rose to his feet and allowed Legolas to guide him to his bed and tuck him in. The archer stayed by him, cradling him in his arms until at last he drifted off into slumber. Legolas gazed at him longingly. When Elrohir was fast asleep, he dared to press a gentle kiss to his temple before slipping out of the room to tell the others what had happened.

_To be continued_…


	148. Aduial 16 Love's Labor

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XV: Love's Labor  
"It is indeed fortunate you were nearby when he recalled his passing," Gandalf commented.

Legolas nodded somberly, his eyes never leaving Elrohir as the latter spoke with his parents.

It was the afternoon after the Elf-knight's harrowing recollection of his death in Middle-earth. He had been so disturbed by the memory that he had kept to his room with only Elladan and Legolas for company. Not even to his parents could he bring himself to speak of his experience so soon.

That was not surprising. It was not the first time a re-born Elf had been shaken to the core of his or her being by such a memory. It would not be the last. And so Celebrian simply arranged for their meals to be sent to the younger twin's chamber while Elrond prepared a mild sleeping draught to ensure peaceful slumber for his son for the coming night.

Elrohir finally emerged from his room that afternoon and appeared in the Hall of Fire, flanked by his brother and best friend. Ensconced in the hearthside couch, Elrond and Celebrian had been entertaining a visiting Mithrandir who sat in the chair opposite them.

Nimeithel and her sons were settled in one corner – the woodland princess absorbed in a book on herb lore while Elendir and Elros indulged in a four-way game of Realms with Lindir and Glorfindel. Erestor, on the other hand, had taken advantage of the lull in his full day and was dozing in the cozy armchair behind them.

As soon as Celebrian clapped her eyes on her younger son, she opened her warm arms to him. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Elrohir hastened into them. Elladan and Legolas watched in relief as he nestled trustingly in his mother's embrace while he related to his father all that he had gone through the night before. Elrond listened intently, clasping Elrohir's hands comfortingly in his own.

After a while, Elladan had excused himself and joined his family. But Gandalf had risen and taken his place at Legolas' side. He now regarded the prince with some concern.

"Are you all right, Legolas?" he gently inquired. "You seem quite disheartened."

Legolas sighed. "'Tis only that this marks the end of my stay in Artirion," he explained. "I promised him I would dwell here until he recalled that moment. Now that he has..." He bit his lip. "I will miss being with him every day."

"'Tis the closest you have felt to being his mate again," Gandalf softly observed.

Legolas drew a pensive breath. "I will be alone again, Mithrandir."

"I have heard tales of the many who extol your graces," Gandalf remarked. "Have you ever thought to assuage your loneliness through them?"

Legolas frowned. "I cannot," he said.

"Elrohir would not fault you."

Legolas smiled faintly, remembering his Twilight's avowal of unconditional love. "He would not," he agreed. "But I do not desire another. I would only wound myself further were I to take another to our bed for mere release. The guilt and loathing after..." He shook his head vehemently. "With what little strength I possess, I would rather await my Elf-knight's full return than compromise myself so basely."

Gandalf smiled back at him. "You have more strength than you think, Legolas," he told the archer. "Elrohir will love you ever more deeply when the time comes." The Istar suddenly chuckled mischievously. "I pray you will manage to survive it!"

Legolas found himself blushing at his old friend's unexpected suggestive jest but he grinned with pleasure nonetheless.

oOoOoOo

The eve of his departure, Elrohir came to his room to help him finish packing his things. The young warrior looked positively morose and when he sat himself silently on the bedside divan, there was no mistaking his unhappiness.

Legolas came to sit beside him. "Elrohir, what is wrong?" he murmured, taking the other's hands into his own.

Elrohir pursed his lips in displeasure. "I only wish you did not have to leave," he said. "I will miss you terribly."

Though he heartily agreed with Elrohir's sentiments, Legolas tried to be encouraging. "I will visit you as often as my duties allow. And you will always be welcome in Taur Galen and for as long as you desire."

"But it is not the same as having you live in the same house as I," Elrohir pointed out. He suddenly swallowed hard. "I am sorry. I have no right to burden you so when I imagine you must be anxious to return home."

He looked away, his mouth tightening further to still its trembling. Legolas reached out and cupped his chin; he compelled the Elf-knight to return his gaze.

"Nay, I am not anxious at all," Legolas said softly. "I, too, will miss seeing you every day, Elrohir. If not for duty, I would stay on for as long as you desire. But seven years is far more than my father can spare me. Until my brothers join us, I am all he has of his children."

Elrohir swallowed again then nodded in resignation. "I know, Legolas," he whispered.

His woebegone expression nearly broke the archer's heart. On impulse, he drew Elrohir into the curve of his arm and let the darkling Elf lean his head on his shoulder.

To his surprise, Elrohir stiffened then pulled away, his eyes riveted on Legolas' right hand. The archer glanced down then caught his breath in dismay. There on his index finger was the object that had snared Elrohir's attention. His binding-ring.

Legolas was disconcerted by his carelessness. Since Elrohir had grown old enough to be aware of the marital traditions of Elvenkind, he had prudently refrained from wearing his binding ring when the Elf-knight was present. But this evening, as he had readied his things for packing, he had absent-mindedly put in on and neglected to remove it when Elrohir entered his room.

"Legolas?" the Elf-knight hesitantly said. He fingered the gold band on the archer's right index finger. "Is this – are you – wed?"

Legolas drew in a steadying breath. "Nay, not wed but – bound," he clarified.

Elrohir's eyes widened. "Bound?" he choked. "To another _ellon_?"—male Elf? At the prince's hesitant nod, he shook his head a little disbelievingly. "The speed of my recovery leaves much to be desired if I have not yet remembered such a momentous change in your life," he wryly commented. "I pray I shall regain wholeness ere much longer."

Legolas nearly gaped at him, so startled was he by this evidence that Elrohir remembered the old proscription in Greenwood of the ancient path.

"'Tis my prayer as well," he replied with heartfelt agreement

Elrohir frowned. Somehow, he felt uneasy knowing the prince had a mate though he could not pinpoint the reason for his discomfort. He took up Legolas' right hand, thumbing the gold ring.

"It is alike to Nimeithel's wedding band. How is it that you bear a ring exactly like the one Elladan bestowed upon your sister?" he asked.

Legolas felt a twinge of alarm singe his nerves. "What did Elladan tell you about Nimeithel's ring?" he countered.

Elrohir shook his head. "Nothing," he admitted. "I assumed it was an heirloom of our house but now..." He stared at the band on Legolas' finger again, confusion shadowing his eyes.

Legolas thought quickly. "The rings were forged as a pair," he explained. "Elladan chose one, my mate took the other." It was not the complete truth but it was no lie either. He would have to tell Elladan of his ruse.

"I see. But, Legolas, why have I not met your spouse after all these years?" Elrohir asked, a mystified frown marring his brow.

Legolas bit his lip. "'Tis because I had to leave him in Middle-earth."

"Leave him? Why—?" The twin cut himself off at the look of distress that appeared in the archer's eyes. Though curious about the reason behind the other's discomfort, he did not press on. "Forgive me, I should not pry." But after a decent pause, he could not help asking, "Did I know him?"

"Very well," Legolas replied, forcing a smile.

"What is his name?"

"His name would mean nothing to you," Legolas replied evasively. "When you have recalled all your past life, I will tell you then."

Elrohir was puzzled by his friend's reticence but decided to let it go. Something else, however, bothered him. "If you are bound, why do others still pursue you? Have they no respect for your spouse?"

Legolas shrugged. "They have their reasons, reprehensible though some may be. But I can assure you, they pursue me in vain."

"Good," Elrohir smiled. "I may have been a rogue but I do believe in fidelity between binding-mates. May I assume then that he will join you soon?"

Legolas hesitated. He decided a portion of the truth would do no harm. "Not yet," he said softly. "He passed into the Halls of Mandos years ago when we still resided in Middle-earth."

Elrohir stared at him in dismay. "Ai, I am so sorry. I did not mean to trouble you."

Legolas shook his head. "You did not know," he said, his voice catching.

Elrohir gazed at him with compassion. "You still grieve for him," he murmured. "You must have shared a great love."

"We did," Legolas said. "I never thought I would know anything like it."

"It must be wonderful to know a love like that," Elrohir mused. "I envy you, Legolas."

"You would not if you knew how much pain it can bring," the prince replied, suddenly bitter. "I guarded my heart for so long precisely because I did not want to know this grief."

The twin looked at him with empathic sorrow. "Do you regret then that you gave your heart away?"

Legolas heaved a disconsolate sigh. "Nay, I regret nothing," he said. "If I sounded bitter, 'tis only because the waiting can be unbearably long and bleak." He looked down at his hand and the gold band.

"But you will have him again," Elrohir said softly. "It may take unbearably long as you say but you will be together again."

Legolas willed himself to keep still, to refrain from drawing the twin into his arms much as he longed to.

"I wonder what he was like," Elrohir remarked. "He must have been very special indeed to affect you thus with his loss."

Legolas stared at him. There had been the slightest tinge of jealousy in the other's tone. Whether it was just the twin's discomfort at thinking himself displaced in his friend's affections or a vestige of the Elf-knight's legendary territoriality did not matter. It was soothing to be the object of the twin's possessiveness once more.

Daring just a little more candidness, he said, "Actually, he was very much like you."

Elrohir had to gasp. "You chose one akin to me?" he chuckled. "To take on someone like that must have taken unprecedented courage not to mention a goodly sense of humor!"

Legolas had to smile at the other's unknowing summing up of his own self. "I did not stand much of a chance. He pursued me quite relentlessly." He paused. "Much as you would have done in the same position."

Elrohir shook his head, bemused and amused. "As long as he treated you well," he finally said. "And I assume he did since you pine for him so fervently." He glanced at the archer, wondered at the fondness with which the other regarded him. "And when he returns to you he had better continue to treat you so," he continued softly. "For if he does not, I will personally send him to Námo's halls a second time!"

There was no mistaking the raw emotion in the twin's tone. It betrayed the depth of his caring for Legolas as a friend. Would that the archer could soon add lover to the list of roles the twin played in his life.

On impulse, he drew out from underneath his shirt the chain upon which the Elf-warrior's ring hung. He removed it from his neck and held it in his hand. "'Tis his ring," he whispered. He looked at the twin and drew a deep breath. "I would ask a favor of you, Elrohir."

"Anything."

"Will you take this and keep it against the day when he will be returned to me?"

Elrohir stared at him. "Why me?" he asked nonplussed. "Should you not keep it?"

Legolas tried to smile. "Do not ask me why," he murmured. "Please, just take it." He took Elrohir's hand and placed the ring on its chain in the other's palm.

Elrohir gazed in silence at the band for a long while. Studied the intertwined leaves of gold and mithril and the single emerald in the center, beautiful in its clarity and the purity of its color.

"This is of dwarven make," he said suddenly. "Did Gimli make this for you?"

Legolas nodded. "'Twas his nuptial gift to us."

Unaware of the implicit meaning of Legolas' reply, Elrohir raised a finger and stroked the finely wrought leaves on the band. For some reason, he thought the ring so precious as to be priceless and closed his fingers almost reverently around it. He looked up at Legolas and saw the other's eyes were glistening brightly.

He raised his hand and, with his thumb, wiped away a single tear that threatened to trickle down the prince's cheek. "I will keep this for you," he promised. He drew Legolas into a comforting embrace. It took all of the archer's will not to return the embrace over ardently.

_To be continued_…


	149. Aduial 17 Majority

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVI: Majority  
Artirion, _Yávannië_ F.A. 189  
The youngest prince of Taur Galen arrived at the secluded house of the Lord of Artirion one bright day in September. Finding no one in the main hall he wandered out to the gardens, thinking the family might be gathered there to enjoy the cool morning breeze. He nearly collided with Elladan as the other entered the house.

"Legolas!" he exclaimed. "You are early."

"I could hardly be late for this day," the prince pointed out.

He wondered at Elladan's reaction. It seemed his friend was torn between happiness and anxiety at seeing him. But before he could ascertain what troubled him, voices drifted toward them from the garden. He turned his head and quickly spotted the one Elf he desired to see.

"Elrohir?" he called tentatively.

At the mention of his name, the younger twin turned in the prince's direction and stared at him. A wide smile split his lips and he exclaimed, "Legolas!" He hurried towards the archer.

With typical warmth he swept the prince into a welcoming embrace. Legolas hugged him back, his heart beating wildly.

"I am glad you have arrived, _gwador_"—sworn brother—the younger twin said.

Legolas jerked back and stared at him, blue eyes clouding with frustration. "_Gwador?_" he repeated tightly.

Mistaking the archer's reaction for surprise at yet another recollection, Elrohir smiled. "I remembered that we swore to be as brothers to each other," he explained.

Legolas swallowed painfully. "That-that is wonderful," he managed to utter. A moment later, anguish struck him with such force that he almost physically reeled from it.

"What is wrong, Legolas?" Elrohir asked worriedly when the prince paled to a sickly shade.

Elrond suddenly appeared behind them and placed a hand on his younger son's shoulder. "_Ion_"—son—"go with your mother. Elladan and I need to speak with Legolas in private."

"But, _Ada_—" Elrohir looked at his father in puzzlement but when Celebrían held out her hand to him, he sighed and said to Legolas, "I would speak to you about this later, Legolas." At the archer's nodded acquiescence, the younger twin escorted his mother into the house.

At a gesture from Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor came over and stood by Elladan. Elrond turned to the ashen-faced prince, his eyes expressing his understanding and compassion.

"There are still gaps in his memories, Legolas," Elrond said. "There are matters he still has not recalled even about his mother, myself or Arwen. 'Tis only his relationship with Elladan that he knows in full. Mayhap their twinship has to do with this; the shared year in their mother's womb easing the way for those memories." Elrond paused, his eyes conveying heartfelt sympathy for the prince. "He still does not recall anything beyond your friendship."

Legolas swallowed hard. "I had hoped his restoration would be completed by his coming-of-age," he said in a subdued voice. "Does he not even remember that he once – desired me?" he queried heavily.

Elladan shook his head. "Nay, _gwanur_."—brother. "I am sorry."

Glorfindel placed a consoling hand on the prince's shoulder. "But he is now of age, Legolas. You are free to court him until such time that he recalls your espousal."

Legolas heaved a forlorn sigh. "But he knows I am bound," he said. "He would never entertain such a move from me. And even did he not know this, I still dare not woo him."

"Why so?" Erestor asked in surprise.

Legolas glanced sadly at the steward. "I know him well. Once he learns that I love him, he would do his utmost to try and return it that I should not be hurt. If he were to fail, he would then berate himself for not being able to meet my need." He had accurately summed up the younger twin's most likely reactions. "I will not do that to him. 'Tis a terrible burden to carry the weight of such guilt and I refuse to let him bear it."

"But, Legolas—" Elladan started to say.

"I will wait," the prince staunchly said.

"It may be a long wait," Elrond said gently.

Legolas' eyes turned sorrowful. "I have already waited this long. I can be patient a little longer," he said dolefully.

oOoOoOo

Elrohir's coming-of-age was celebrated with typical restraint and ample regard for the guests' comfort. In keeping with the younger twin's well-known dislike for pomp and circumstance, only close kith and kin were in attendance. However, considering that said kith and kin included three Elvenkings and a host of great lords and living legends, it was not surprising that the event attracted more attention than the most elaborate coming-of-age rites in recent memory.

Legolas grinned as he watched Elrohir converse with Elladan's twins. Though they had reached their majority decades ago, they afforded their uncle all the deference due one of far greater years than theirs. But then, of course, Elrohir's youth was only evident in his re-born body. His eyes were another story. Over three millennia worth of experiences gleamed in those twilight pools. His body was new but his eyes, the windows of his soul, were old.

His appearance at the ceremony had elicited quite a number of gasps of appreciation encouraged further by Elladan's presence at his side. On this shared anniversary of their begetting, the twins had dressed as mirror images of each other.

Both wore rich garments of stark black, sumptuous violet and muted mauve. Every detail was duplicated on their raiment but on contrasting sides so that when the brethren faced each other it looked as if people beheld one or the other through a mirror. Even the mithril brooches that held their formal mantles asymmetrically across their chests were pinned on opposite shoulders, Elladan's on his left shoulder and Elrohir on the right. Not surprisingly, they had flouted tradition and instead of formal robes had opted for richly textured, court tunics and bound their sable locks into thick, single plaits. They appeared as they had been in Middle-earth. Warrior princes without peer.

With typical verve, Elrohir had chosen the occasion to reclaim his twinship with Elladan. Looking at them this evening, it was near impossible to imagine that they had ever been apart, that a whole cycle of death, rebirth and growth had come between them. They were in complete accord once more, in perfect harmony as they had been when first they'd shared their mother's womb.

Would that he would reclaim our love as well, Legolas thought sadly. He'd looked forward to this day though the more rational part of his mind had chided him and warned him not to expect too much. Caution had dictated that he put aside his hopes and keep to sense instead. But hope had run sense into the ground, whether he willed it or not. He'd hoped, expected the twin to remember something, anything of their intimacy at the very least. But it was painfully apparent that nothing of the sort had occurred. The memories remained locked away and not even his coming-of-age had yielded the key to their retrieval thus far.

He was so lost in his pensive thoughts that he did not notice Elrohir's approach.

"Why so melancholic?" the Elf-knight murmured. "You gave me reason to believe that you looked forward to this day. Was I wrong in my presumptions?"

Legolas blushed. So, Elrohir had noticed his previous eagerness. He'd thought he'd concealed his feelings well.

"Nay, you were not mistaken," he demurred.

"Then why so mournful now that the day has arrived?" Elrohir persisted.

Legolas knew he had to be partially truthful at least. "I suppose I expected much on this day and not all that I had hoped for has been fulfilled," he admitted.

Elrohir pursed his lips. "You allude to my memory," he murmured. "'Tis the only thing still lacking." He sighed and looked keenly at the prince. "Why do I feel as if I have failed you somehow?"

Legolas was taken aback. He had not reckoned with Elrohir's perceptiveness and now felt shock that his beloved should think himself to blame for his sorrow. "You must not think yourself at fault in any way," he objected. "You have never failed me in all our years together and I know you never will."

Elrohir studied him closely. It was the same disconcerting stare that had oft reduced his foes in the past to nervous wrecks. The same astute gaze that had seen past the shields Legolas had once erected around his heart to the fears and doubts within.

"You continue to conceal something from me," he finally said, his eyes glittering unexpectedly with hurt. "Why, Legolas? Do you no longer trust me? Am I no longer your closest friend?"

The prince flinched at his words. "You will always be my most beloved friend," he avowed, gripping the Elf-warrior's hand tightly. "Dearer to me than my own brothers." At the gleam of relief and pleasure in the other's silvered eyes, he said, "If I restrain myself, 'tis for your sake, Elrohir. Please trust me in this, _gwador_."

After a while, Elrohir let his breath out and nodded in acquiescence. Unexpectedly, he pulled Legolas into a heartfelt embrace, burying his face in the pale column of his neck. The very contact electrified every cell in the prince's body. He had to strive hard not to turn his head and take hungry possession of the twin's mouth. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, he returned the embrace.

Across the garden, Elladan stared at them in surprise and the beginnings of delight. But the expression on the archer's face told him the true tale and he sighed. He locked gazes with Legolas, conveying all his sympathy and compassion in his storm blue eyes.

oOoOoOo

In the next few years, Elrohir's memory continued to improve in leaps and bounds; he was almost himself once more. But of his relationship with Legolas he still remembered little save for an unrelenting desire for the prince's company, a desire he put down to their close friendship so abruptly cut off by his untimely passing.

One thing did provide great comfort for the archer. Elrohir continued to regard him as he once had long ago. The dearest of all those dear to him. It meant that they carried on spending many days and long hours in each other's society. If he could not have the twin's love as a mate, then at least he could enjoy his love as a friend.

For the most part, he managed to be content. Elrohir's physical presence, the sight of his dear face, the sound of his melodious voice, was a balm for the prince's wounds. But there were occasions when that same presence also afforded him pain and frustration for he could not always suppress his need for renewed intimacy with the warrior. Their binding drew him to the twin on all levels including bodily desire. But he could not approach Elrohir for assuagement of his longing.

Elladan commiserated with him over this frustrating set of circumstances. "'Tis a pity he learned about your binding," he said. "Had he not, you could approach him now to answer your desire."

Legolas shook his head. "Even were he unaware of my wedded state, it would still be unmeet for me to ask this of him," he objected. "What passed between us before was for friendship's sake. Elrohir did not expect more from me than to meet his needs. This is different."

"How is it different?" Elladan remarked. "He wanted you then and you yielded. Now, 'tis you who wants him. Were it not for your binding, he would not refuse you. He holds your friendship as dearly as you do his."

"But I would not be able to conceal my love for him," Legolas explained. "And, as I said before, I have no intention of unduly pressuring him into returning it. You know what that could do to him."

Unable to disagree, Elladan felt almost as glum as the archer. "Already he is sought almost as ardently as you are," he grumbled. "What if he returns to his old ways? Would that I could spare you such pain. And I confess I fear for him as well should he remember your binding only after he has broken his vows. He will never forgive himself for hurting you so grievously, _gwanur_."

"I know," Legolas whispered.

Yet he could do nothing to stop the Elrohir from doing that which would eventually wound both of them. If he felt the need for intimacy, there was no doubt Elrohir was experiencing the same urges. Even before his majority he had already been seen to possess a roving eye and an unerring instinct for picking the most beauteous maids or the most attractive males in Eldamar.

And he had no problem whatsoever drawing their interest in turn. Indeed, there were many who had been tempted to seduce the young Elf-lord even in his minority however against custom that was. But for the watchful eye of his family, there was no telling if such an attempt might have succeeded given Elrohir's past.

Presently, in physical appearance, Elrohir was very much alike to his form when he had passed away and that meant he was breathtakingly fair and utterly irresistible. It presented a hazard the prince profoundly disliked. For there were _Edhil_ aplenty who had no compunctions about going after one who was already bound if circumstances eased the passage of such a transgression. Elrohir's circumstances presented a unique and almost irresistibly tantalizing temptation to many.

The situation infuriated Legolas even more than the persistent pursuit of his own self. He was well aware that for many, it was not only the taboo against informing a re-born _Edhel_ of his past in an untimely fashion that kept them from doing so. They simply thought it beneficial to their interests to keep the lovers apart.

Amongst these were those who continued to seek the woodland prince's favors and the Elf-knight's own former lovers, _ellyn_ and _ellith_—male Elves and Elf-maids—alike. They had known him as Legolas had and, like the prince, had never forgotten the rapture they'd experienced in Elrohir's arms. They were a threat to reckon with for they had the advantage of their erstwhile intimacy with the younger twin to aid them in their wooing.

As a result, Legolas was forced to put up with the attentions shown the Elf-rider and endure the latter's appreciation of said attentions in turn. The pain that wreaked was particularly excruciating. What if he returned to his promiscuous ways? Since he knew not that he was bound, what was there to stop him from seeking pleasure in some fair maiden's bed or mayhap with a handsome Elf?

Legolas tried to steel himself against the evil day when he would hear of some such coupling but he could not completely shut himself off from the hurt. No matter that it would be but a mere indulgence, one in a multitude in the twin's disreputable history, the thought of his spouse sharing himself with another, no matter how shallow or fleeting, wounded him terribly. Still he could not act upon his desire to claim him here and now.

For the first time, Legolas fully comprehended why Elrohir had not declared himself at once all those centuries ago. Their deep, abiding friendship had proven the greatest hindrance of all when it came to his heart's yearnings.

Had Legolas known of his love too soon, he would have been rendered discomforted by it. The easy trust between them would have been marred by the archer's sure suspicions of other intentions even in the Elf-knight's most innocent of gestures. And in the end, Elrohir's love had indeed proven more daunting to the prince than his desire. Legolas had not forsaken the Elf-knight even in the wakes of their intermittent couplings down through the centuries. But he had nearly done so when love reared its overwhelming, frightening head.

That they had lain together as lovers and managed to maintain their close friendship was as much to Elrohir's credit as it was to Legolas. True, the prince had treasured their comradeship so dearly that he had willingly yielded than lose his dearest of all friends. But Elrohir had known the reason behind Legolas' willingness and had inhibited himself from expressing his love for close to two thousand years. In effect, he had readily sacrificed his heart's well-being for the sake of Legolas' peace of mind and made a brutal choice in the process.

He placed Legolas first, foregoing the bliss of his heart's fulfillment if by doing so he could keep their friendship intact, knowing how greatly the archer depended on it and him. When he had dared to finally reveal the truth, he had taken the greatest risk of all. And when it had seemed all was in vain, he had chosen once more to put Legolas first and let him go.

It was this unflinching resolve that had convinced Legolas to unshield his heart and offer it to the Elf-knight. That Elrohir should love him so deeply that he would always put his welfare, his avowed wishes and, above all, his happiness above his own even if he would perforce pay the ultimate price, had at last dissolved the archer's reservations and allayed his fears. He had reaped the rewards of his surrender most bounteously. He had known naught but joy and contentment in Elrohir's tender keeping.

Legolas could do no less than repay Elrohir in kind now. He would not mar the young Elf's trust in him. He would not have Elrohir believe that his affectionate demeanor had stemmed from motives other than the pure love of a friend. He could not burden his beloved Twilight with the knowledge of their oaths when the other was in no position to keep them.

As Elrohir had once put his interests first, so now would he do the same for Elrohir. Even if it broke his heart and scarred his very soul.

Glossary:  
Yávannië - Quenya for September  
Ada - Papa  
Edhil, Edhel - Elves, Elf

_To be continued_…

**AN:** My apologies for not responding in the longest time to the lovely reviews I've been fortunate enough to receive. I can only plead the hectic state of real life at the moment. It's a wonder I've managed to update regularly as it is.  
Thanks for your continued and constant support, **astalder**. But if you think Elrohir is dense now, I wonder what you'll think of him as the story progresses! (laugh) Of course, he isn't really dense; just unable to recall so much of his first life.  
To **obidawn, itsalltoofamiliar, Nina, kanefire, Allie, Lisseyelen** and everyone else who has been kind enough to leave such encouraging feedback - thank you so much. It's very much appreciated.  
Thank you, **Mya**. As you have undoubtedly already discovered, it's going to be less than smooth sailing for Legolas with regards to Elrohir's growth to maturity. Glad you're enjoying the journey.  
**Rudhheniel**, I'm sorry that you've been having some trouble tracking the chapters but if I post the parts at this late date as separate stories, it will probably only get more confusing. The table of contents does list the chapters under the pertinent parts; I hope you'll find that helpful enough. Thanks for following this series despite the inconvenience.  
**Wierdly**, that is inarguably one of the most heartening reviews I've ever received. It's always a pleasure to learn that something I've written has persuaded someone to step outside of his or her usual boundaries. It makes all the time and effort really very much worthwhile. Thank you so much.


	150. Aduial 18 Stirrings

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVII: Stirrings  
It was during a walk along the pristine shores of the Bay of Eldamar that he received the answer to his fears. Nearly a score of years had passed since the Elf-knight had reached his majority. There was no trace of the newly come-of-age Elf; as a rule, elven rebirth led to swift maturation that a returned _Edhel_ might continue with his life soonest.

Legolas watched somberly as Elrohir picked up a stone and threw it into the waves. The twin seemed out of sorts this breezy afternoon.

"What ails you?" Legolas asked curiously as the warrior glared at the endless sea.

Elrohir sighed and turned back to face him. He pursed his lips in that oh-so-familiar and therefore endearing manner that betrayed frustration. "There must be something wrong with me," he replied. At Legolas' surprised reaction he went on to explain testily, "They say our faults are corrected in the Halls of Awaiting. It makes me wonder if this particular fault of mine has been stripped from me."

"What fault do you refer to?" Legolas queried.

"My passion, it seems," Elrohir answered with a scowl.

The prince stared at him in surprise. "What?" he scoffed. "What do you mean? I have seen you look at others with the same interest you once took in the Elves of Middle-earth. You cannot pretend you feel no desire."

"Desire, aye, I do feel it," the twin agreed. "How can anyone not notice the beauty of the Eldar of Valinor? But beyond that I falter." He snorted with disgust. "Do not laugh, Legolas, but I have been chaste since my coming-of-age."

Legolas gaped at him. To Elrohir, the archer's reaction was understandable, thinking as he did that it was disbelief that drove him to silence. The word chastity and the names of Elrond's sons were rarely if ever uttered together. Even within the eternal bounds of comfortable monogamy with binding-mates, their need for the pleasures of physical coupling continued unabated. Elladan's relationship with Nimeithel was already talked about in Eldamar for its intensely passionate nature.

But Legolas was not rendered speechless by incredulity. Rather he was reduced to dumbness by active relief. To know for certain that something stayed the Elf-knight's usual predilection for bed-play no matter how casual was an unexpected boon in the midst of Legolas' longing-driven gloom. Elrohir was still his and his alone. He drew in a shaky breath and silently uttered a prayer of thanks to the Valar for sparing him further pain.

Of a sudden, he remembered Gimli's sage counsel of more than thirty years past. "What stays you?" he asked, just this side of giddy from anticipation of the answer. "Is it simply lack of passion or—?"

"I seem to have become more discriminating in my taste," Elrohir said. "I constantly compare them all and find them wanting."

"Wanting in comparison to—?" Legolas pressed on.

Elrohir blushed of a sudden. "Please, do not be offended but I compare them to -- well, to you. But there is none in all Valinor to match you." This last ended almost in a whisper. "I hope you do not take this as disrespect to you, Legolas," he hurried on. "'Tis not that I use your image as – as—" The blush grew deeper as the Elf-lord grew ever more uncharacteristically embarrassed.

But for his centuries-honed discipline and well-ingrained prudence, Legolas might have taken him right then and there. As it was, it was all he could do to keep from pulling Elrohir into his arms and kissing him senseless.

"I am not offended," he gently assured his unknowing spouse. If anything, he felt much heartened. Not to mention flattered.

"I only mean that I admire you and think you the comeliest Elf in Valinor," Elrohir explained seriously, calmed by Legolas' manner. "I cannot help but envy your mate that he won you. Would that I be so fortunate as he when the time comes." He sighed then complained: "Not that anything will happen if I continue to be so selective!"

His heart swelling with full-blown relief, budding elation and bursting affection, Legolas patted his Elf-knight's arm comfortingly.

"Mayhap 'tis just a passing phase," he said with a genuine grin. Inwardly, he fervently hoped it was not and would remain thus until fate or time saw fit to restore Elrohir to him in full.

oOoOoOo

Taur Galen F.A. 230  
The forest river was swift moving and oft cold even at the height of summer. But that little troubled the Elves who enjoyed its bracing waters. Elladan grinned as his twin looked longingly at the rushing flow.

"If you truly wish to take a swim, do not let us hinder you," he said.

At his side Legolas chuckled and said: "Indeed, I will join you, Elrohir. 'Tis a blazingly hot day. What about you, Elladan?"

The older twin shook his head. "I am more inclined to take a nap in the shade of this tree," he replied, suiting action to words.

They had gone hunting together in the great forest at the western feet of Túna that morning and had brought down a goodly number of game for the royal pantries. But instead of returning to the Elvenking's halls, they had sent the other hunters ahead and headed for the river instead. Elrohir had expressed a desire for a quick dip in its cool waters.

Elladan watched a while as his brother and friend swiftly stripped before diving into the river. He smiled and allowed himself to drift into light slumber.

He and Nimeithel had come to Taur Galen for a whole summer's visit with her parents. Naturally, Elrohir had insisted on coming with them that he might spend the season with Legolas. The past month had been most refreshing for the brethren, affording them the luxury of a spell of duty-less freedom.

While Elladan dozed, Legolas and Elrohir tested their mettle and strength against the river's powerful current. Battling the fierce flow, they soon reached the great falls that fed Taur Galen's main tributary. Avoiding the perilous roiling whirlpools at the fall's turbulent base, they clambered out onto the rock-strewn banks and rested upon the mossy boulders awhile.

Lying atop one flat boulder, Elrohir regarded the clear skies with a contented sigh. Legolas grinned, pleased to see him enjoying himself.

"That was a great buck you brought down," he praisefully remarked. "I believe 'tis the same one that has eluded our hunters for many months now."

Elrohir smiled. "'Twas a cunning beast," he said. "I almost thought to let it go."

"Why didn't you?" Legolas inquired.

"He was the only stag we came across. And you like venison."

Legolas looked at him fondly. "Thank you," he softly said.

"Don't mention it."

At length, Legolas rose to his feet and looked anon at the river. "Shall we walk back or swim?" he said.

"Swim," Elrohir answered, moving to get to his feet as well. He stopped suddenly as his gaze fell on the fair archer.

Legolas noted the startled look in his eyes. One would think he had never seen his friend before.

"Elrohir?" he asked wonderingly. "What is wrong?"

The Elf-knight shook his head but his eyes seemed clouded with confusion. "Nothing," he said hoarsely. "Come, let us return to Elladan."

He did not wait for Legolas to join him but dove at once into the river once more. Puzzled, Legolas followed him.

The archer was even more bemused when they returned to where Elladan now awaited them. Elrohir hurriedly drew on his clothes and kept his gaze averted from the archer. That struck Elladan as odd while Legolas did not quite know whether to feel troubled or hurt.

"_Muindor_, what is it?" Elladan questioned him. When Elrohir would not reply, he softly added: "You will lead Legolas to believe that he has wronged you in some way."

Elrohir quickly looked at the prince and noted his chary mien. Drawing a shaky breath, he reached out and gripped Legolas' hand.

"Forgive me if I was abrupt," he said. "I was only beset by something I never expected."

"And what is this thing?" Legolas asked quietly.

"I cannot tell you," Elrohir replied. "Not now. Please, do not think that I do not trust you, Legolas. 'Tis only that—"

The prince gently silenced him by placing two fingers against his lips. It was clear Elrohir had been taken unaware by some unexpected thought or feeling. He was not offended that the Elf-knight would not confide in him. Just as there were matters that Elrohir told him but not Elladan, so were there things better suited to Elladan's ears than the archer's. Apparently, this was one of the latter.

"I understand," he said.

That evening, Elrohir did not come down to dinner but sent his excuses instead. Worried, Elladan sought him in his room. Memories of times past continued to afflict his brother, some disturbing enough to dismay the intrepid Elf-knight. But then that was not unexpected considering the uncertain life they had all known and survived in Middle-earth.

He found Elrohir seated before the hearth, staring with haunted eyes into the fire.

"_Gwanneth_? What is wrong?" he softly inquired, sitting down by his twin.

Elrohir scarcely looked at him. "When I lay down to clear my head, I saw a vision. Images of him – with me." He shook his head. "I cannot put it into words."

Elladan regarded him thoughtfully then reached out tentatively with his thoughts. Elrohir felt the light inquiring probe. Acceding, he opened his mind and completed the connection between them.

It was controlled of course. Even with his twin, Elrohir never revealed all that passed between him and Legolas. Not all words or thoughts or deeds.

Elladan allowed the flow of images to register on his own mind's eye. He saw a candlelit room and recognized it as Legolas' old bedchamber in Greenwood. Saw his brother and the woodland prince talking, about what Elrohir did not reveal. And then it came – brief but vivid images of sable and gold mingling upon snowy sheets and pristine pillows, two bodies straining and joining in love-play, the sounds of imminent completion...

Elrohir withdrew from their link then but it was enough for Elladan. He knew what his twin had recalled.

The Elf-knight drew in a shuddering breath before looking squarely at Elladan. "Did I – did I ever – lie with Legolas?" he whispered.

Elladan hesitated then said: "Aye, you did."

"Why?" Elrohir gasped. "Why in Arda did I bed my own friend?"

"He was not the only friend you bedded in all your years, Elrohir," Elladan reminded him.

"But he was my dearest one," Elrohir fiercely countered. "How could I have demeaned him?"

"You did not!" Elladan objected. "Legolas willingly yielded to you."

"For what reason, Elladan?" Elrohir insisted. "There must have been a good reason for him to have done so."

Elladan pondered what to say. The temptation to tell Elrohir everything was very great. But judging from his reaction, it would be unwise. Legolas had been right. Were he to reveal their binding to his brother now, Elrohir would just as passionately throw himself into attempting to feel something of his love for the archer and, possibly failing under such forced circumstances, would endlessly fault himself for disappointing Legolas.

"There are times when friendship can lead to intimacy," he carefully pointed out. "You and Legolas were extremely close. It so happened that you sought intimacy with each other during certain – straits in your long association."

"What straits?"

Elladan sighed. His twin could be so tenacious. "You – developed an obsession for him," he honestly related. "He chose to succor you rather than lose you. 'Twas your first joining in Mirkwood that you envisioned." Taking Elrohir's incredulity in stride he continued. "And then when mother had to leave for Valinor, Legolas comforted you in the only way that seemed to reach you. The last time you coupled with him before – before he fell in love with – his mate – was after a terrible quarrel that near sundered your friendship."

Elrohir swallowed hard. "I touched him in that manner?" he said in a hushed voice. "And he stayed my friend?"

"He did not think it too high a price to pay for the regard you had always shown him," Elladan said. "Do not fault yourself in this." He looked at his brother curiously. "What recalled to you your intimacy with him?"

Elrohir swallowed again. "At the river," he murmured. "When we got to the falls and rested, I suddenly – saw him in another way. I was – I was overcome by his – his bared magnificence." At Elladan's choked gasp, he glared at him. "'Twas not intentional! I had not thought of him that way before. Not even when I compared him to all those who sought to woo me!"

Elladan met his twin's troubled gaze. "Did his mate know about us?" Elrohir asked. "I cannot bear the thought that I may have unwittingly caused discord between them!"

"He knew," Elladan assured him. "And he accepted your closeness to Legolas. Do not let this distress you."

Elrohir looked down at his hands. "I am shocked, Elladan, that I should have coveted him in that way. And that he cared enough to answer my needs!" He clenched his hands. "He was ever worthy of my regard even then and now I know why. The Valar grant that his love be returned to him soonest."

Elladan pursed his lips, caught between an urge to laugh and a compulsion to weep, both born of a mixture of frustration, excitement and tension.

"'Tis Legolas' most fervent prayer as well," he finally said. He drew his twin into a soothing embrace. "But for now, you must be his comfort until that yearned for day comes."

"I do my best," Elrohir murmured. "But how can that ever be enough when he misses his love so terribly?"

Elladan had no answer for that.

When he returned downstairs, he found Legolas anxiously awaiting him. Glancing at his family in the dining chamber, he took the archer by the arm and led him out to the porch. The house was a fair distance from other dwellings save for the residential pavilion. They would not be overheard or disturbed.

"Tell me all, Elladan," Legolas demanded without preamble as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

Elladan bit his lips. "I do not wish to raise false hopes," he began reluctantly.

Legolas stared at him then said firmly: "Better false hopes than none at all. Please, _gwanur_, tell me what happened."

Elladan blew his breath out. "His odd demeanor at the river?" the older twin abruptly said. "'Tis because he was bested by the sight of your 'bared magnificence'."

The archer stared at his friend in shocked disbelief. Elladan smiled faintly at his expression.

"His words, not mine," he said. "Legolas, it caused him to remember your first joining in Mirkwood."

Legolas caught his breath. He swallowed hard then nodded to the Elf-lord to continue. Elladan swiftly recounted everything to the archer.

When he was done, Legolas gazed at him, hope and fear alternately lighting and shadowing his eyes. "What can we expect now?" he inquired almost timorously.

"In truth, I do not know," Elladan said. "But for him to recall that event after seeing you at the river...sometimes the body remembers ere the mind does. He responded to you as he has not with any other Elf. He may not recall his love for you as yet but he has at last begun to feel desire." He placed an encouraging hand on his law-brother's shoulder. "I know 'tis not as much as you hoped for, yet it is a start."

Legolas gazed up at the starry firmament, eyes gleaming with unfathomable emotion. After a long silent while, he looked at Elladan once more and smiled, the gentleness of it enough to near bring the Elf-lord to tears.

The prince whispered tremulously: "As you said, it is a start."

Glossary:  
Edhel – Elf  
muindor - brother  
gwanneth – younger twin  
gwanur – brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

_To be continued_…


	151. Aduial 19 Fraught Desires

**AN:** I received a brief but unflattering review to put it mildly. Ordinarily, I don't take critical reviews personally as long as the criticism is of the story itself. But this one went further. It not only impugned me as a person but also insulted the readers who left me positive feedback. After years of writing, both professionally and recreationally, I've learned to expect negative commentary along with the good even on my own person but I draw the line when that commentary extends to the people who did no more than read my work and happened to like or approve of it. It is uncalled for and downright rude and I hope no one else indulges in such incivility from hereon.

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XVIII: Fraught Desires  
Legolas came to Elrond's halls bearing gifts from his father. But upon ascertaining that Elrohir was at the cascades, he quickly made his excuses and went in search of the younger twin. It did not escape Nimeithel's amused scrutiny when her brother furtively slipped one of the gifts back into the pack in which he had borne them to Artirion.

It was but a month since the Elf-knight recalled their first tryst in Mirkwood.

Several minutes later, he was questioning the wisdom of going to Elrohir. He found the Elf a short distance from the falls, lounging in the shade of a massive oak. He was lying on his side reading a book, his lank muscular frame stretched out in leisurely repose. Clad only in a thin shirt, long breeches and light shoes, his obsidian mane spilling carelessly over to one side, he presented an image that would incite even the most measured of Elves to pure lust.

Legolas was no exception and his previous experiences at the enthralling hands of the twin rendered him even more vulnerable to such turbulent feelings. He had to struggle for calm before approaching the latter. Recalling Elrohir's distress in the aftermath of their swim in the forest river, he firmly pushed away the passion threatening to fog his already love-befuddled senses.

Confident that he had his wayward yearnings under control, he made his presence known to Elrohir.

"Were this Middle-earth and I an orc, you would have been skewered like a wild boar long before you knew of my approach," he teasingly chided the warrior Elf. Elrohir's start of surprise made his deliberate stealth well worth the effort.

"Then I suppose I should thank the Powers that this is _not_ Middle-earth," Elrohir muttered, his cheeks flushing.

Legolas knew it touched on his pride to have his warrior's senses questioned. The archer relented at once. "You were deep in your perusal of that book," he smilingly offered. "You have no reason to be wary in the heart of your father's realm anymore than in the hidden vale of Imladris."

Elrohir beamed gratefully at the archer's gracious rescue. "Would that I could hunt orcs again as I did of yore. Valinor is a mite too peaceful for my taste."

Legolas grinned. "Which is why you are so fearsome at the chase and seek the most perilous game to pursue," he remarked.

Elrohir chuckled. "I do not think you came here just to poke fun at my restless spirits," he drawled. "What is it you have in that pack?"

"A gift from my father to yours," Legolas replied. "One of them anyway." He pulled out a slender bottle filled with a burgundy-hued liquid.

Elrohir's eyes widened. "Dorwinion wine! How in Arda did you get hold of that?"

"Some of our people passed over sea. They brought quite a store of luxuries from the Hinter Lands with them."

"'Tis truly a gift fit for a king," Elrohir smiled. "I wish Erestor would put that scholar's mind of his to reproducing it here."

"I believe he was already mulling over the problem when I left your father's halls," Legolas replied.

"Then he will succeed," Elrohir predicted confidently. "There is nothing Erestor cannot solve when he sets his mind to it."

"Especially when he has Glorfindel helping him," Legolas added archly.

Elrohir laughed with him briefly before he blushed anew. Evidently, the allusion to the two Elves' relationship reminded him of the incident at the river. Legolas discerned this at once and sought to stem the darkling Elf's embarrassment.

"I do not mind if you feel thusly with me," he softly assured the twin. Elrohir's startled stare told him the Elf-warrior had not been aware his brother had divulged his secret to the prince. "'Tis natural to have unruly feelings after such lengthy continence."

"Aye, so Elladan suggested to me," Elrohir said. He bit his lip. "But I do not recall being so unable to control myself in all my years in Middle-earth. I was all undone by you and I could do nothing to stop it. Forgive me, _gwador_, it shall not happen again."

"You cannot command your body to stop feeling as it does, Aduial," Legolas pointed out, his blue gaze suddenly intense.

Elrohir stared at him in surprise at the unexpectedly bestowed name. There was something unmistakably intimate about being addressed thus by his friend. And hauntingly familiar.

_Twilight?_

_'Tis the color of your eyes. Am I the only one who has ever thought to call you thus?_

He caught his breath at the flitting remembrance of its first utterance. A rush of pleasure coursed through him, recalling the unbidden desire for the archer that had overwhelmed him by the forest river. He swallowed hard at the turbulent feelings that welled up within him anew.

Legolas espied the confusion in the warrior's eyes but could not bring himself to regret his usage of the pet name. He could not deny the need to establish some measure of intimacy between them and the appellation had been particularly cherished by the Elf-knight.

Still regarding the darkling Elf intently, he softly added, "And as I said, I do not mind."

Striving to bring his capricious emotions under control, Elrohir took a deep calming breath. "As long as I do not act upon it," he finished for the archer. Or thought he did.

He was quite perturbed when Legolas did not concur with his pronouncement. To diffuse his tension, he cocked his head and gestured with his chin toward the bottle of wine in the prince's hand.

"Did you bring that merely to torment me or do I get to taste of it?" he asked cheekily.

Legolas grinned, diverted from his heavy mood for the moment. "I will let you taste it," he grinned, "but I get to say how much. I would not have you return to your father inebriated and then be blamed for your condition."

"Inebriated!" Elrohir was outraged. "I could drink you under the table, Thranduilion. _That_ I clearly recall!"

"Aye, that you could," Legolas conceded. "But your reborn form has not yet remembered how to handle excess drink even if your mind knows you once did." He added wickedly, "Or have you forgotten who had to help put you to bed after you downed five bottles of Maltaurean ale last _Girithron_ in Alqualondë?"

Elrohir glared at him with such indignation that he burst out laughing. After a moment, the Elf-knight ruefully grinned and said, "Mayhap you are right. Very well, I leave it to you. Only have pity and do not stint so much as to only whet my thirst further."

Legolas smirked. "I will be generous, never fear." He pulled out the cork with his teeth, the roguish manner making Elrohir shake his head with amusement.

"Barbaric Wood-elf," he muttered under his breath.

"Have a care, _gwador_," Legolas threatened good-naturedly. "I hold the wine, remember?"

"I beg your pardon, most gracious prince," Elrohir shot back, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"First you call me barbaric, then you name me gracious. Which am I, O Confused One?"

"Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up and let me have some of that blasted wine!"

Laughter claimed them both for a while until finally Legolas acceded to the twin's demand. He hoisted the bottle up high and tilted it temptingly.

"Open wide, _meldiren_"—my friend—he mischievously ordered the other.

Elrohir stared at him then choked, "What am I, a drinking cup?"

"Elrohir."

"What?"

"Shut up and do as I say if you want some of this blasted wine."

The warrior mock-scowled then finally decided to submit to his friend's cajoling. He threw his head back and opened his mouth. Legolas tipped the bottle and poured a thin stream of wine into the twin's mouth. Then he took a swig of the wine himself, grinning as Elrohir shook his head with amusement. Chuckling, he convinced the twin to take his wine the same way two more times.

It was on the third try that a little wine trickled from the corner of Elrohir's mouth and down the side of his throat. The twin gasped then laughed ruefully, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Legolas was about to lift the bottle to his lips when he stopped, his eyes riveted on the dribble of wine that snaked its way down Elrohir's neck. At the same time, he suddenly became aware of the twin's scent. The familiar, oh-so singular scent that belonged to him alone. How strange that he still evoked memories of the hidden vale, of Imladris, and not Valinor, land of his rebirth.

The memories were too much for him to resist. Long repressed desire forced its way past his barriers, breached the walls of his self-control. Reason abandoned him in the same instant his body betrayed him. Casting lucid thought aside, forgetting all his long-held convictions, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the twin's neck, letting his tongue lap up the wine in a series of sensual caresses.

Elrohir caught his breath at the archer's unexpected actions. "Legolas?" he gasped as his friend's lips travelled up his throat to his jaw. "What-what are you d-doing?" he said shakily.

The prince made no answer save to capture his mouth in a heart-stoppingly tender kiss that set his head spinning and inflamed his senses with shocking swiftness.

Elrohir was dumbfounded. He had never expected Legolas to make such a move. But even more disturbing, he was responding to him once more and so very readily at that.

He felt the archer's hands slowly map his torso and gasped at the thrill of passion that shot through his veins. As soon as his lips parted, the prince invaded his mouth with a hunger that left him shuddering with need. He found himself unable to resist or protest when Legolas pinned him against the tree, straddling him to hold him immobile.

Elrohir felt a familiar surge of pleasure and desire sweep through him. He knew these feelings, had sought and enjoyed them before. And, suddenly, he knew what to do and how to do it. Though his re-born body was as yet untouched, his spirit was not. Sensations, thoughts, skills – all returned with startling clarity. Along with an irresistible yearning to seek release.

Legolas moaned as he felt the twin's hands on him, stroking him, touching him, feeling him just where he was most sensitive. He trembled as his kiss was returned with stunning mastery and passion, the warrior's hand grasping him by the nape to pull him ever deeper into their lips' embrace. He had missed this! Yearned for this closeness for so long. He could no longer rein in his desire. Aware only of his need, Legolas reached for the ties on Elrohir's shirt and began to undo them.

As he tugged on one lacing, it caught on his finger and nearly knotted. Impatiently, he jerked it loose with a sharp pull of his right hand. The motion, slight as it was, caught Elrohir's attention. Through the corner of his eyes, the twin saw the glint of gold on Legolas' slightly upraised hand. Reason flooded his passion-dazed mind with sudden force.

With a ragged gasp, he managed to pull away from Legolas. The prince frowned, leaned forward to reclaim his lips.

Elrohir held him back. "Legolas, we cannot do this!" he said hoarsely.

The archer was visibly upset. Frustration shone clearly in his eyes. "Elrohir, I need you!" he growled. "By the Valar, do not deny me now!"

"But I must," the twin responded pleadingly. "'Tis not right!"

"What is not right?" Legolas demanded. "We were lovers once."

Elrohir shook his head almost desperately. "Before you took a mate," he said. "Legolas, you are vowed to another."

Legolas stared at him, anger and reason battling it out in the depths of his heart. The struggle was all too clear in his expression. Anger won out. He suddenly pulled away from Elrohir, rising to his feet in one smooth, graceful motion.

"You do not want me!" he hissed. "Just say it, Elrohir! Mayhap 'tis another you desire!"

"Nay, that is not so!" Elrohir cried, leaping to his feet, reaching out to the other Elf.

Legolas yanked his hand away. "Leave me alone!" he spat out. "Stay away from me!" He fled from the twin.

His last words were said with such despair, they smote Elrohir to the core of his being. He sped after the archer, catching up with him as the latter faltered to a stop and leaned wearily against a tree.

Hesitantly, Elrohir placed a hand on Legolas' arm. He winced when the prince stiffened against his touch. But he pressed on, determined not to part from his friend in anger and hurt.

"If I could have you in honor, I would," he said softly. "Elbereth knows how much I want you. You are the only one who has made me burn with need. But you are bound and yearn for your mate. I cannot take advantage of your loneliness. I would not have us betray him and you bear the burden of guilt ever after. Yet even more than that, you are my dearest friend. I would not destroy our friendship over mere lust."

Legolas could not accept his Elf-knight's reasoning. He was too distraught to accept anything rational at the moment. He refused to respond, declined to even look at the twin.

He felt Elrohir's hand slip from his arm. Heard the other's low, pained voice say, "You have changed since my coming-of-age. You oft become pensive when you are with me. I do not know what I have done to cause you so much pain but whatever it is, please, forgive me, Calenlass."

_Calenlass_. Elrohir had unknowingly uttered his pet name for the prince. The intimate name none but the younger twin ever used on Legolas. Love welled up to quell his anger. It calmed him, soothed his turmoil and helped his mind return to coherence.

He is honorable, the prince mused. He always has been. 'Tis one of the reasons I loved him as a friend and loved him even more as my spouse. Legolas realized he could not now mar what he had so assiduously protected for the past eight decades.

He wanted Elrohir to come to him in love-spurred passion, not in desire born of seduction. That the twin responded to him and him alone was evidence that their bond was still intact though not recalled by the latter. And the remembrance of the endearment indicated that other memories were finally coming back to him. He could only pray the rest would return soonest. He turned to look at Elrohir, saw that his twilight eyes gleamed with uncertainty and anxiety.

"Nay, you have never given me anything but joy, Aduial," Legolas murmured. "You were right to protect me from my own weakness."

Steadying himself he drew Elrohir into his arms, tamping down on the desire that threatened to rise up again when the twin embraced him in return. He would not let his passions get the better of him again, he vowed.

He felt a shudder pass through Elrohir's frame though the warrior quickly took control of himself. Legolas knew it for what it was. Elrohir desired him just as much but was manfully suppressing it. The prince bolstered his spirits with the knowledge.

The line that divided desire from love was treacherously simple to cross. He would bide his time and wait for Elrohir to take that crucial step. And when he did, there would be no holding back. He would reclaim his Elf-knight. And woe to any who stood in his way.

Glossary:  
gwador - sworn brother  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
Thranduilion - son of Thranduil  
Girithron - Sindarin for December  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)

_To be continued_…


	152. Aduial 20 By Faith Alone

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XIX: By Faith Alone  
Occasionally, when he had the heart to consider it, Legolas would ponder the irony of his situation. I once led Elrohir on a merry chase, he mused. Refused to acknowledge my feelings for him, hurt him and led him to believe his love hopeless that he nearly died from the grief of it. Now 'tis I who waits and yearns, wondering when my feelings will be returned.

In his years in Middle-earth, he had witnessed much sorrow wrought by the breaking of great love between two Elves whether by death, enforced separation or other equally painful circumstances. Unwilling to face such misery, he had shut his heart against love, allowing only that which one accorded kith and kin. He had also thought himself incapable of desiring male-kind. Even upon being enlightened about the duality of elven nature, he'd had the temerity to declare that he would not take that road even should the Valar themselves will it.

He still remembered the twins' half jesting, half serious reactions to his ill-pondered declaration.

Elrohir had cautioned him, saying, "Take care, Legolas. 'Tis perilous to speak thus. The Powers may very well lead you down that path just to punish you for gainsaying them!"

And Elladan had pointed out that if he met the 'right' Elf, "I fear you will not be able to resist his allure for that is also part of our nature!"

Who would have guessed that Elf would be Elrohir? Indeed, who would have thought that Legolas would feel the pull so keenly that even under the delusion that he only did so for friendship's sake, he would yield to Elrohir's desire and eventually come to desire Elrohir as well? And who in Arda would have imagined that the younger twin would manage to accomplish the impossible, unlocking the golden prince's unyielding heart and claiming it for his own?

When Elrond and Thranduil had forged an alliance between their realms, it had been solely for the protection of their people from the perils that beleaguered their borders. Neither had intended that their houses would be bound even more closely through their children. Legolas and Elrohir's pairing had been the most unlikely of all. Both had shown a preference for female-kind; neither had considered mating with their own, not even Elrohir who had indulged in such affairs during his many years of carnal adventuring.

Yet, whether by the will of the Valar or the exhortations of fate, that which had been deemed unimaginable had come to pass. Best friends and sworn brothers became lovers and binding-mates. Who would have thought the idea anything other than preposterous and, therefore, unattainable?

He was the courageous one, Legolas oft thought. Willing to suffer in silence rather than impose upon me, able to risk ultimate rejection rather than forego the chance of love. I only followed in his footsteps, learning to be strong by emulating him, holding to the path by dint of his indomitable will. 'Tis no wonder I love him so.

oOoOoOo

Eldamar, _lairë_ F.A. 234  
Legolas walked with his parents in the shining streets of Tirion, feeling pensive despite the merriment around him. It was difficult to share the gladness around him. Not when that which he so desired still eluded him with frustrating constancy.

It was a time of festival in Tirion upon the hill of Túna. Virtually all of neighboring Alqualondë, Artirion, Taur Galen and Maltaurë had emptied as the Teleri, Imladrins, Wood-elves and Galadhrim gathered in the elven city in the pass of the Calacirya.

The Eldar of Valinor were not by any means one united people. At all other times, they tended to keep to their own realms. Thus, the Teleri and most of their Middle-earth kin, the Sindar, seldom left the shores of Eldamar; the Galadhrim were content to roam their golden wood; the Vanyar mostly stayed within sight of Taniquetil's summit; and the Silvan Elves formerly of Greenwood were pleased to remain within their vast forest's bounds under their Sindarin king's rule. Only the Noldor, with their legendary adventurous streak, had spread out across the length and breadth of the Blessed Realm. Their domains stretched from the northern mining colonies with restored Formenos as their base, to the Noldorin capital of Tirion and the small but increasingly important realm of Artirion on Túna, to the westernmost settlements beyond Maltaurë.

Ingwë of the Vanyar was still recognized as High-king of the Eldar but he was by no means an absolute ruler. Finarfin, Olwë, Elrond, Thranduil, and Galadriel and Celeborn were not in any way beholden to him and ruled their own realms with utmost independence. But unity and accord amongst the different elven tribes were achieved by means of a High Council, which Ingwë headed.

The Council had become a necessity with the steady influx of Exiles and Elves from Middle-earth starting in the First Age after the fall of Morgoth. With so many groups of Elves and such varied needs and desires to be answered, the only way to avert active dissension and fractious relations had been to bring their leaders together in a formal organization.

Thus the High Council was born. With the single exception of Mithrandir, it was composed entirely of Elves. Aside from all the rulers of Aman's elven realms, its membership included sage counsellors, valiant warriors and distinguished scholars and artists. Thus, of Elrond's people, Glorfindel, Erestor and Lindir had been invited to join the Council, as had both his twin sons – Elrohir was taken in as soon as he reached his majority.

Likewise, Legolas, having had the lordship of Eryn Gael, had also been asked to be part of it and oft represented Thranduil when the Elvenking was unable to attend. When the last ship from Middle-earth berthed in the lamp lit quays of Alqualondë, no doubt the Council would be further swelled by the august likes of Círdan the shipwright.

Legolas had served the High Council well from the moment he was inducted into it and consequently was a most respected member. He had navigated the complicated byways of negotiations, diplomatic and otherwise, and weathered the most intricate and sometimes discordant political maneuverings.

The latter had surprised him at first for he had admittedly expected Aman to be something of a perfectly benign haven. But, as he had learned in his century of residence in Eldamar, not even the Blessed Realm was spared the troubles that afflicted less than flawless beings even in so beauteous a people as the Firstborn. They could be as prideful and impatient and foolhardy as any of the other races that walked under the sun. But the one thing that differentiated them from the others was their intrinsic goodness. They could transgress but rarely were their sins born of evil. And of all Arda's peoples, only they consistently revered the Powers and worshipped the One himself.

Legolas had learned swiftly and ceased to be over troubled by the sometimes turbulent dealings within the Council. But in the last two years, he had stopped attending its weekly meetings. Indeed, he had attempted to resign but had been persuaded by the others to take a temporary leave instead. He had given his numerous duties in the Woodland Realm as his reason but, in truth, it had simply been a way of preventing more painful encounters with Elrohir.

Legolas did not know how much more he could endure. Loneliness was his constant companion now for he had taken to avoiding being with Elrohir overmuch or overlong. Everything had changed irrevocably after the encounter at the cascades. He had not expected it but the sheer effort to retreat from his desire had wounded him far more deeply than he had known at the time.

Where once he had found comfort in their friendship, he now felt anguish. Elrohir's very presence hurt him more than soothed him. To be close to the Elf-knight and not be able to express his feelings and passions or receive any in return had turned into a torment so excruciating, it oft left him shaking with grief and near-hopelessness.

The few times he did encounter Elrond's family, he would take his leave as soon as was decently possible. Better to retreat into solitude than to have to cope with Elrohir's hurt confusion or Elladan's reproach. But the result was isolation from the comfort of their friendship as well.

He had found great solace in the company of Gimli and the hobbits. The Dwarf's supportiveness and the hobbits' unfailing cheer oft boosted his faltering spirits and his foundering hopes. Yet even they could not stave off despair forever. Sooner or late, he would feel the walls of sorrow and loneliness closing in on him once more.

It was in this state of gloom that he let himself be dragged to the celebration. Yet despite his oblivion to the festivities he still attracted a fair amount of attention.

He had donned a delicately embroidered aquamarine tunic over a snowy shirt, the bluish-green garment making his hair shine even more brightly. Such comeliness joined with the maddening aloofness of his demeanor proved a most potent combination. Many eyes were drawn to him and not a few sought to attract his attention. He smiled and was pleasant but his heart was too heavy to do anything more.

They had come straight to the festival from Taur Galen but would be staying the night in Artirion as Elrond's guests. So far they had not seen the Peredhil lord and his family but that was no problem. As kin-by-marriage, they were free to come and go as they pleased in Elrond's halls. And frankly, Legolas was somewhat relieved not to have to see Elrohir just yet while in so low a mood.

He was standing by one of the dancing fountains of the city while his parents spoke with friends when he felt eyes upon him. Turning he saw Elrohir across the square with his family and Gimli and the hobbits. The twin was staring at him with an expression Legolas could not quite fathom. Nor did he have the inclination to do so for he was suddenly overcome with anguish so great he could scarcely breathe let alone think.

In an effort to cope with his yearnings, Legolas had attempted to suppress as much of his memories with the darkling Elf-lord as he could. It hurt too much to remember the details of their time together when the other could not and, thus, was unable to share them with him. Better not to dwell on things that only made him dizzy with frustration and might yet bring him to the brink of despair.

But this...! It was as if he was seeing Elrohir for the first time.

The other Elf was clad in sapphire and silver. The same colors he had worn in Minas Tirith the day of Eldarion's betrothal some two centuries ago. He looked as breathtaking as he had that fateful day. Memories that Legolas had tried to bury flooded his mind; feelings he had sought to repress rose up within him. Shuddering at the onslaught, Legolas knew he could not remain in Tirion surrounded by so much joy when his own heart was shattering and his spirit mourning his loss anew.

He spoke to no one, not even his parents. He raced to the stables, flung himself upon his steed and fled Tirion. Urging on his horse as if a horde of orcs was after him, he swiftly rode to Elrond's halls.

Reaching the silent house, Legolas went straight to the bedchamber that was always reserved for him, storming past servants, entirely oblivious of their surprise and concern. Sinking down onto his bed, he felt his grief well up inexorably. Until this night he had managed to keep his grief in hand, letting others see only the merest shadow of it. He'd concealed his sorrow so deftly that not even his parents or sister realized the full extent of it. But now he could not keep the sorrow from overtaking him.

He missed the other Elrohir – the Elrohir who had loved him and pursued him and made him his own. The yawning emptiness within him would not close, his wounded spirit refused to heal even here in the Blessed Realm. And seeing the younger twin at the festival had made him feel the loneliness more acutely than ever.

He could not hold it in any longer. He wept as he had not wept in a very long time. I never imagined it could be this painful, he thought in agony. If I cannot find peace in Valinor, where then shall I ever find it?

"Legolas?"

He looked up in shock. Elrohir stood at his door, gazing at him with a pained expression. "What are you doing here?" Legolas managed to utter.

The other Elf entered the room, shutting the door behind him. "I saw you flee," he said. "I followed you." He came to Legolas and sat by him. He enclosed the golden-haired Elf in his arms and held him tightly. "Let me help you, Legolas. I cannot bear to see you in such straits," he murmured.

Legolas fought the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. How to tell Elrohir that his presence only pained him more? He tried to calm down, made an effort to hold back his tears.

He lifted his head and tried to smile. "'Tis good of you to comfort me," he said. "I will be all right now. Though I must look like something dredged from the bottom of a Morgul swamp."

Elrohir slipped his hand under his chin and tilted his face so that he could look upon it. His grey eyes glittered in the dim light. "Nay, you still look as beautiful as you did the day of Eldarion's betrothal. You wore that same color and I thought it suited you so well."

Legolas gaped at him in shock. He drew back suddenly, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You-you remember that?" he gasped.

Elrohir reached up and tenderly tucked a wayward gold strand behind Legolas' ear. "We bound to each other in Ithilien because you refused to wait the requisite year. Arwen was so heavy with child we all feared she would birth in the middle of the Rites." His voice dropped lower, catching a little as he continued. "'Twas because of our binding that Gilwen's potion failed and poisoned me instead."

The prince stared at him dumbfounded. Part of him wondered if he had finally gone mad in his grief and was only hearing what he wanted to hear. Elrohir saw the fear in his eyes and understood.

He held up his right hand. Legolas swallowed as he espied the gold band with its intertwined leaves and the single emerald on the twin's index finger. The band he had placed on that finger so many years ago and later entrusted to him while he awaited the return of his memories.

"You are not imagining things, _bereth nín_. When I saw you at the festival, I knew that you were once mine." He stroked his knuckles across the prince's fine jaw. "And you will be mine, Legolas," he whispered. "I think you know that."

Legolas caught his breath. So had Elrohir declared on Mount Mindolluin all those years ago. Overwhelmed, he finally gave in to his longing to hold the twin in his arms. He nearly sobbed anew when the embrace was returned with equal fervor. His heart lightened, his spirit soared. And suddenly he felt Elrohir's soul speaking to his own once more in exultant recognition. His pain turned into almost unbearable joy.

"I feared you would never love me again," he whispered chokingly and felt the grip on him tighten.

"I love you more than ever," Elrohir replied tenderly. "And I curse my weakness for having been so slow to remember our bond," he added more heatedly.

"Nay, Aduial, I bless your strength," Legolas countered, "for how else were you able to persuade Námo to let you return to me so soon?"

"I told you I would go down on my knees and beg if that was what it would take."

Legolas pulled back and stared at him. "And-and you did?" he said in awe.

"I did. I would have done anything to return to you, Calenlass."

Legolas had not thought it possible for his feelings for Elrohir to deepen any further. For the proud Elf-knight to prostrate himself before anyone, to humbly plead for anything even of the Valar themselves, was simply inconceivable to any who knew him well. Yet he had done so for love of his forest prince. Whatever I suffered in all these lonely years was well worth it if this be my prize, Legolas thought.

Almost giddy with joy and gratitude, the prince looked at the other Elf and smiled. And the bright smile lit up his face, as it had not done since he left the shores of Middle-earth.

Elrohir sucked in his breath, mesmerized by the beauty of that smile. He cupped Legolas' face in his hand and kissed him with infinite tenderness. Legolas felt the familiar thrill course through his limbs. It was the same as it had always been. He felt great peace and contentment envelop him.

But as the kiss lengthened and deepened, he found himself hungering for much more. For too long had he suppressed his desire for the twin. For too long had he pretended indifference to his allure. With sudden ferocity, he pulled Elrohir into a tight embrace, pressed breath-claiming kisses upon the other's mouth.

Elrohir barely managed to draw back for a moment, startled by the prince's fervor. Even the aborted interlude by the cascades had not educed so much keenness from the fair-haired archer. He tried to speak, his words punctuated by the other's mind-clouding kisses.

"Legolas! I've – never known – you – to be so – enthusiastic!"

Legolas only paused long enough to retort, "I've never had to wait so many years before!" ere capturing the twin's lips again in another flurry of passionate caresses.

He reached for the toggles on Elrohir's tunic and began to undo them. To his exasperation they proved to be of a particularly uncooperative design. It took forever to unfasten just one elaborate clasp.

Elrohir heard the sound of popping clasps and rending loops and realized that Legolas was forcibly pulling his tunic open, unmindful of the damage done to its fasteners. He jerked back in shock.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

Legolas acidly replied, "Your tunic is impossible to undo."

Elrohir gaped at him in amazement as the toggles on his raiment were systematically reduced to useless trim. "You are impatient, Thranduilion," he commented wryly.

"I am done with waiting!" the archer snapped back.

In the same moment, both Elves recognized the similarity of their conversation to one that had occurred two hundred years ago, only with their roles reversed. Legolas paused for a moment as they grinned at each other and at the memory. But soon the impatient light came back into his eyes. Elrohir hastily grasped his hands.

"There is no need for haste," he softly reasoned. "We have all eternity before us."

"But after all my waiting, even eternity is not enough for me," Legolas pointed out, pulling his hands free and ridding Elrohir's tunic of its last fastener. "I do not wish to waste even a single moment of time that we have together. Now take off your clothes before I tear them off you!"

Startled and quite overcome by the prince's peremptory command, Elrohir quickly doffed his garments. With similar haste, Legolas shed his own suddenly cumbersome raiment. But his eyes remained riveted on the warrior, their sapphire depths glittering as long desired flesh was revealed. His appreciative and alarmingly ravenous regard was not lost on Elrohir. His breath quickened and his heart began to beat wildly.

Hardly had he managed to finish undressing when the prince bore him down upon the bed. And then Legolas was kissing him fiercely, holding him flush against his own form so that their bodies almost merged together. He wasted no time at all reclaiming virtually every inch of his Elf-knight.

Elrohir laughed then cried out under Legolas' salacious attentions. It seemed there was no part of his body that was not marked by crimson bruises wrought by the prince's ardent use of his lips and teeth and tongue. And those knowing hands, so skilled with bow and knife, were proving as lethal to his equilibrium and dignity. He was kissed and nipped and laved, fondled and stroked and clutched with near overwhelming hunger.

For once, the Elf-rider found himself giving thought to whether they could be heard outside the bedchamber as his mate's lustful assault progressed in intensity. But when Legolas voraciously attacked his throbbing need, he abandoned all thoughts of anything at all save how to survive the almost harrowing rapture he was being subjected to. Caught between exquisite pain and excruciating pleasure, he shuddered and gasped as his golden spouse swiftly brought him to completion then greedily drank him down.

With almost fearsome haste, Legolas wedged himself between Elrohir's legs. But a moment later, he saw the sudden tension in the other's eyes and recalled that his mate's refashioned form was as still untouched. In the slow reformation of his body, had its knowledge of his possession by the archer been restored as well? Forcing himself to slow down, he sought Elrohir's compliance first.

"_Melethron_, I do not wish to hurt you but I must have you," he whispered imploringly, eyes near blackened to indigo in his lust. "It has been far too long..."

The tension in the Elf-knight's eyes gave way to trust. "I am ever yours, Calenlass," he said in a hushed voice. "Have me as you wish." He invitingly snaked his legs around the archer's trim waist.

Legolas groaned at the wanton offer. With joyful, needful tears stinging his eyes, he took what he had so long yearned for. Shuddering with barely restrained passion, he began to drive slowly and deeply into Elrohir's welcoming warmth

Elrohir gasped from the initial shock of that first entry. But the shock soon gave way to remembered ecstasy at their joinings. Just as swiftly he came back to full arousal, which the archer immediately and literally took in hand. With typical lack of inhibition, the Elf-knight not only submitted to the prince's desire but aided and abetted it as well, until they felt the complete and sublime renewal of their bond; shared the precious connection on every level of their beings as the binding-channel opened between them in full and they became one again, heart, body and spirit. Completion overtook them and they both tumbled into a figurative abyss of mind-boggling bliss.

Legolas did not know how often he claimed his Elf-knight in the course of their glorious reunion. He only knew that at long last he could. And did.

Hours later, a group of patently agitated Elves and one scowling Dwarf arrived in the vale. Elrond and Celebrían swept into their halls followed quickly by Thranduil, Ithilwen, Gimli, Elladan and Nimeithel. They had discovered the sudden disappearances of the youngest sons of their houses and, with judicious questioning of a variety of witnesses, had learned that Legolas had departed for Artirion in a frightful hurry. Elrohir had followed him soon after. Every witness had remarked upon the less than calm demeanor of either Elf and that had triggered their respective family's worries.

What had compelled Legolas to leave Tirion so precipitately and spurred Elrohir to pursue him? Had they quarreled and parted in anger? Mayhap that was why Elrohir had gone after Legolas?

Quick inquiries from the servants yielded the information that the prince had arrived in a bad state. He had been very distraught, sweeping past them, unmindful of their greetings or queries of concern, and practically racing to his chamber. Soon after, Lord Elrohir had suddenly shown up, too, took no more heed of them than the prince had, and headed in the general direction of Legolas' room. And, yes, he had been quite troubled; they had all noticed the twin's grim expression.

More alarmed than ever, the party hastened to Legolas' chamber. At the door, Thranduil listened closely for sounds that might indicate what was happening within. Total silence greeted him. That did it. There were supposed to be two Elves in there, both in a state of disquiet if not downright distress. It was not supposed to be silent!

He glanced at Elrond and saw that the Elvenlord had come to the same conclusion. Without further ado, the Elvenking opened his son's door and strode into the room, closely followed by the others. They all came to an abrupt stop on the threshold, their eyes wide with shock, mouths gaping in amazement.

The two Elves lay on their sides on the bed, Legolas behind Elrohir, his arm wrapped around the Elf-knight, holding the twin in the curve of his body. Beneath the covers, the others could discern their legs, entwined intimately. They looked utterly spent and utterly peaceful. There was no mistaking what had passed between them earlier.

Of a sudden, Gimli whispered, "Look!" whilst pointing at Elrohir's right hand where it lay upon the bed. On the index finger was the long-missed gold band the Dwarf himself had forged at Legolas' request, the symbol of the Elf-rider's binding to the prince.

Everyone relaxed in relief and happiness. With profound gratitude in their hearts, Thranduil and Ithilwen gazed at their son. A smile of serenity and contentment softened his fair features.

The woodland queen quietly approached the bed, the lady of the vale accompanying her. The two ladies sought to pull the covers over their sons' forms but Legolas' arm, as it curled around Elrohir's body, pinned it down. As gently as possible, Ithilwen raised his arm off the twin to free the covers.

A slight frown marred his brow as, even in slumber, he felt the momentary loss of contact with his spouse. Ithilwen had to smile as Legolas, still asleep, insistently curled his arm once more around Elrohir and drew him even closer than before. She looked up at Celebrían and saw that her smile was mirrored in the other's countenance. They pulled the covers up and lovingly tucked in their sons then walked back to rejoin the others.

The group departed the bedchamber, their hearts warm and full. Before closing the door behind them, Thranduil and his wife took one last look at the sleeping lovers. Tender smiles lit up their faces.

After so lengthy a wait and much heartache, their Greenleaf had found his reward. His Elf-knight was finally returned to him.

Glossary:  
lairë - Quenya for summer  
bereth nín - my spouse  
Aduial - Twilight  
Thranduilion - son of Thranduil  
Calenlass - Greenleaf  
melethron - male lover

_To be continued_…


	153. Aduial 21 For Love of a Green Leaf

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Chapter XX: For Love of a Green Leaf  
The lovers came down to the morning meal to find everyone awaiting them. A knowing smile lit up every face, which had the effect of making Legolas blush with embarrassment even as his heart swelled with joy. He glanced a little guiltily at Elrohir who thankfully looked none the worse for wear from their long night's loving. The results of his considerable usage by his golden spouse had been dealt with by the liberal application of a potent medicinal salve.

The meal proved most merry what with Elladan's suggestive asides, Elendir and Elros' mischievous comments and Elrohir's wicked ripostes. Legolas' desire to crawl under a table until both sets of twins ceased their lascivious banter was hilariously palpable. By the time breakfast was over, he was rosier than the berries that had graced the table. It did not help that his parents seemed able to take the lubricious sallies in stride. Since when had they become less reserved about such matters?

An early visitor took them by surprise as they came out of the dining hall. Gandalf swept into the house, hastily greeted Elrond and Thranduil and their wives then took one look at the two reunited Elves with their arms around each other's waist and beamed broadly. He suddenly said: "My congratulations to both of you." He addressed Elrohir. "I confess I was a little anxious that you might not yet have recovered fully."

"You expected this?" Elrohir said after a startled pause.

"Hoped for it," Gandalf amended. "We have been awaiting yesterday's advent for many a year."

"We?"

"All the Valar and I of course."

"But why?" Legolas inquired after a stunned while. "What was so special about yesterday?"

"Do you not recall?" Gandalf smiled. "'Twas the same day in the same year in the last age that you and Elrohir first met under the eaves of Greenwood the Great!"

A concerted gasp answered his announcement.

"Valar! He is right!" Elladan exclaimed. "I wonder that we did not mark it."

Ithilwen suddenly bristled. "Does this mean that you knew all along just when Elrohir would recover his wholeness?'" she demanded. "And you left my son to suffer in his ignorance of this?!"

"Peace, my lady," Gandalf said placatingly. The woodland queen's temper was sweet as a rule but she could be fearsome when roused to anger. "I did not inform Legolas for there was no surety at all of this. We only hoped that the import of yesterday would make its mark on Elrohir's spirit and heal it at last."

"Heal it?" Elrond repeated. "But healing should have been completed in the Halls of Awaiting."

"Under normal circumstances, aye. But not when mandrake was the cause of his passing."

Elrond stared at him in puzzlement. "He is not the first Elf to die from the untimely consumption of mandrake," he protested.

"But he is the first Elf to have been released earlier than his appointed time," Gandalf pointed out.

While the others stared at him in bewilderment, Thranduil spoke up. "Elrond, let us all go somewhere more private. I do not care to discuss this in the middle of your main hall."

Elrond acquiesced and led the way to the Hall of Fire. There the Istar was immediately enjoined to explain his puzzling declaration to the gathered Elves.

"Your son is most eloquent," Gandalf told Elrond and Celebrían. "He refused to leave Námo in peace and pleaded with him to release him soonest. Not for his own sake but out of fear for Legolas. 'Twas this that touched Námo and moved him to permit Elrohir to return before his time. I believe only your foremother, Luthien, and Finrod son of Finarfin have stayed a briefer time in Mandos' Halls than he."

"But you say he was not yet wholly healed," Celebrían pointed out. "Did Námo not know this?"

"Námo had no knowledge of the effects of mandrake upon an Elf who had stayed but a few years within his halls," the former wizard elucidated. "The Valar may be all-powerful but they are not omnipotent. It was only when Elrohir's memories of his binding to Legolas failed to return that we realized his spirit was still unhealed in full." He looked keenly at Elrohir. "Once you returned to your corporeal form, the mandrake's effect on you manifested itself in full. While it could not have turned you to Gilwen at the time you consumed it, it did have the power to block your memories of your love for Legolas. Had you not died of it, you would have eventually forgotten everything you had ever felt for him outside of your friendship."

Legolas whitened and reached for Elrohir's hand instinctively. The Elf-knight gripped it reassuringly in turn.

"Then it was just as well that I did not survive it," Elrohir whispered. He smothered Legolas' protest with a swift kiss. "To have forgotten your love would have been a fate worse than death," he said. "Dying was not too great a price to pay for the reward of being with you evermore."

Legolas could only mutely nod before burying himself in Elrohir's balming arms. But he could not quite stop himself from trembling and clung tightly to his spouse.

Elrond let out a relieved breath. "Then we must be thankful matters turned out as they did," he remarked. "But you mentioned that you were hoping for yesterday's advent. Why would the day make such a mark when other more potent reminders did not?''

"Because he was nearing the completion of his recovery," Gandalf explained. "Námo sensed this but could not foresee the actual day it would happen. He hoped that Elrohir's spirit would recognize the day he had met his beloved. Which is why he had his brother Irmo beguile Legolas into donning the colors that he wore when Elrohir decided to declare his love to him."

Legolas stared at him. "Beguile me?"

Elladan asked him suddenly: "What did you originally plan to wear yestereve, _gwanur_?"

"A black tunic," Legolas answered promptly. "To match my mood."

"Then why didn't you?"

Legolas shrugged. "I am not certain," he admitted. "It just occurred to me that Elrohir would not be pleased to see me thus garbed." He stopped and stared at Gandalf. "Are you implying that Irmo put the idea in my head?"

Gandalf nodded with a smile. "The Valar cannot directly control others' thoughts or deeds. But they can manipulate events or incidents that might influence those thoughts and deeds as they desire."

"Then all those dreams and coincidences that sparked memories..." Nimeithel began.

"Were orchestrated by the Powers," Thranduil finished. The Elvenking shook his head in some awe. "Every time I think I know all there is to know about life, I am disabused of the notion," he said ruefully.

"Life will always be a mystery," Gandalf agreed. "Even to the Valar themselves." He looked at Legolas and his returned Elf-knight again, his eyes alight with felicity for them. "And now? What do you plan to do?"

"I want Elrohir to come home with me," Legolas said abruptly. "Today."

"Do you not wish to wait out the end of the festival, _muindor_?"—brother—Nimeithel asked.

Legolas shook his head. He looked at Elrohir imploringly. "I have kept our home ready for you all these years, Aduial," he softly said.

"We shall leave for Taur Galen at once, _melethen_"—my love—Elrohir replied with a tender smile.

Gandalf chuckled of a sudden. "Then I wish you good luck, Legolas," he said. "And I hope you do not plan to do any riding tomorrow!"

Legolas blushed deeply while the others looked on in bemusement.

The reunited lovers departed with Thranduil and Ithilwen for Taur Galen as soon as Elrohir had packed enough belongings to tide him over until his parents could send the rest to him. Thranduil invited Elrond's family to join them before the week was up. He also bade the Artirion lord to ask Glorfindel and Erestor and Elros' betrothed, Lindir, to come along as well as Gimli and the Halflings.

"I think we can celebrate the festival far more joyously on our own now that our sons are together again," he wryly told Elrond.

Elrond smiled and agreed. "We will come to Taur Galen soonest," he said.

oOoOoOo

The youngest prince of the Woodland Realm of Taur Galen watched his spouse as the other stood on the balcony of their bedchamber looking up at the stars with delight. He knew what Elrohir had sought and found. His grandfather's light. In some wondrous way, Elrond and his sons were able to communicate with the Mariner as he plied the firmament in his hallowed ship. It was ever the way of the brethren to impart glad tidings to their father's sire.

And such glad tidings they were indeed. Legolas thought back to the throng of Wood-elves that had gathered before his father's palace to welcome the Elf-knight home. He had sent word ahead to his household staff to ready themselves for their other lord's permanent homecoming. And for once they had thrown discretion to the wind and word had swiftly gotten around that Elrohir was at last restored to their prince.

He had almost wept when he first came to Valinor and been greeted by his father's people but without Elrohir at his side. Now, he could barely contain his joy or keep his heart from bursting from it. And the feeling had continued throughout the day as Elrohir settled into their home then explored the forest kingdom with him, not as a well-loved friend and guest, but as his beloved mate and one of the Wood-elves' own.

This willingness of Elrohir to cleave not just to him but to his kindred as well moved Legolas beyond description. His gesture of long ago had enabled the Elvenking to build a dwelling for his youngest son alike to the house Legolas and Elrohir had shared in lovely Ithilien. It had been his way of telling his prince that he would make his home wherever Legolas abided. Now that gesture was made true.

After a while, he rose from the couch by the hearth and joined Elrohir on the balcony. The warrior smiled a welcome at him when he felt Legolas come up behind him and slip his arms around his waist. And he grinned inwardly as he felt a telltale hardness press against his back; they were clad in naught but their thin night-robes.

"Aduial?" Legolas murmured. "Last night, you said you recalled that I was yours when you saw me in Tirion. Yet you only offered me succor when you joined me in my room."

Elrohir turned slightly and pulled him into the curve of his arm. Legolas nestled his head against the warrior's sleek neck. "I remembered that I had wooed you and that for a while you had yielded to me," he said. "But not our binding. Not yet."

"Yet you wore your ring."

"Out of jealousy."

Legolas lifted his head and stared at him in surprise. "You were jealous?" he gasped.

Elrohir nodded. "My motives in following you were not so noble," he admitted. "I envied he who had won you at the last. I found I had ceased to care that we would betray your vows." He pressed his lips against the archer's smooth temple. "When I offered you my help, I was ready to transgress against everything I had been taught if only I could have you."

Legolas gazed at him in some awe. This was the Elrohir of yore who had been quite capable of taking what he desired even to the extent of bending rules and wills. He shivered slightly at the thought of what might have happened had his darkling mate gone through with his intent without recalling that he alone was entitled to the archer's favors. Perversely, it caused a thrill of anticipation to course up his spine.

"When did you finally recall everything?" he whispered.

Elrohir tucked a shining lock behind his ear, then let his finger trace the delicate curve of the prince's ear. Faint color stained Legolas' cheeks at the intimate caress.

"When you wept and I held you close, the memories began to surface, one by one," Elrohir said. "Just as I recounted them to you. When I realized that you were mine all along, that I had every right to wear the ring you had entrusted to me – I was so joyful and relieved that I could only tell you the truth as it came back to me."

He regarded Legolas musingly. For he had noted the slight shadow in the prince's eyes since the morning. "What troubles you still, Calenlass?" he quietly asked.

Legolas sighed. "I confess I worry that – that this may be but a dream and—" He pressed closer to his mate. "I am afraid that I will wake up and find you still apart from me."

Elrohir felt his heart ache for his golden spouse. What must it have been like for Legolas waiting all these years without the certitude of his return? While he had waited for centuries uncounted for the right moment to declare himself to the archer, he had been free to seek comfort elsewhere for his sorrow. Only when he had bound himself in secret to Legolas had that option ceased. But Legolas, widowed yet bound, alone but held to his eternal oath, could not do the same. A century of waiting was dreadful enough. Elrohir did not care to imagine what a whole millennium as Námo had originally decreed for him would have done to the archer. He would never tell Legolas this one aspect of his time in the Halls of Awaiting.

He released Legolas only to take his hand and lead him back into their room and to their wide bed. "Come, I will show you that there is nothing to fear," he cooed to the suddenly blushing archer. "I will prove that I am restored to you evermore."

Legolas shivered as he was disrobed and pressed down into the bed. The first time he had lain here with Elrohir, the Elf-knight had been but a child in his care. Now... He closed his eyes as his lips were caught in a searing kiss.

His hands were caught and raised and pinned to the headboard. A moment later, he started as he felt his wrists bound by something soft yet strong. His eyes snapped open when Elrohir drew away and he looked up in time to see the warrior knotting the other end of the sash of his own robe to the headboard.

"What – what are you doing?" he whispered tremulously. A hand caressed him from an outstretched arm to his chest then on to his waist and down to his hip and one thigh. He swallowed hard when he saw the grey eyes light up with a familiar wicked gleam.

"Last night was for you, my golden prince," Elrohir murmured with the drawl that portended calamity of a different sort for Legolas. "Tonight, I wish to know you again. All of you."

"But – but why bind me?" Legolas protested weakly. He groaned as the Elf-knight leaned down and nuzzled the side of his neck. He felt the warrior's lips against his ear.

"That I may not be hindered by any resistance on your part, _melethron_"—lover—came the salacious reply.

In one fluid motion, the twin moved atop the prince, straddling his hips. Legolas found himself burning intensely as Elrohir proceeded to explore him wholly and thoroughly once more.

Elrohir took his time partaking of the bounty of delights laid out before him though deep within he was shuddering with near feral wanting. Too long had he restrained himself from sating his desire for his then unknown mate. Too long had he feigned disinterest in taking the archer to his bed.

He marked the prince's lean arms and shoulders with crimson stains before claiming the pale column of his stately neck and throat, smiling against the sweet flesh when he heard Legolas' needful whimpers. He silenced his mate, hungrily ravaging the prince's mouth until the other's lips were enticingly swollen. He drew away and grinned with satisfaction when Legolas moaningly protested the loss of contact.

He moved downwards and rapaciously partook of the archer's graces until Legolas was straining up against him. Answering his own body's need for release, Elrohir reached between them. Legolas gasped then cried out. The prince was torn between bucking up into the warrior's mauling hands and attempting to turn away to escape the almost excruciating pleasure.

"Elrohir! Please, I cannot take this!" Legolas pleaded, wriggling desperately while his bound hands kept him in Elrohir's sensual thrall.

"But you can and you will," Elrohir said imperiously, his own voice roughening as he neared completion. "Spend yourself with me, Calenlass. Now."

Legolas did. Explosively.

Rendered quite drained and sated, he was in no condition to protest Elrohir's continued ravishment. The Elf-knight paused only long enough to recover his breath before pressing on with his assault on the prince.

He pried Legolas' thighs apart with startling impatience. The archer cried out hoarsely as Elrohir claimed him anew, plunging his tongue into him with explicit possessiveness, stroking him from within until he thought he would go mad from the joy. It was blatantly evident that Elrohir had not lost a single iota of his skill when it came to the carnal arts. Not that Legolas was complaining. Not in the least!

And then he was swallowed whole while Elbereth only knew how many fingers ably replaced the warrior's tongue within him. He could not hold himself in for long under such edacious treatment and he spilled his release into Elrohir's mouth, gasping sobbingly as he was summarily drained of every last drop of seed.

As he lay panting weakly, the Elf-knight took the opportunity to lick him clean of his earlier release, his lips and tongue ghosting over his belly and the delicate clefts where thighs joined groin to lap up the prince's opalescent seed. Legolas moaned at the light but arousing sensation. The maddeningly ephemeral caresses continued down the tops of his thighs all the way to his calves and ankles and even his toes. Legolas whimpered as each was licked and sucked teasingly. He did not recall Elrohir ever having done that before!

The warrior made his way up once more, his caresses becoming more possessive, suckling at the soft flesh of the archer's inner thighs, leaving scarlet bruises on the white skin. Onwards he moved, emphatically caressing the fair flesh in the most intimate of places, marking the woodland prince as his own. Until at last, he covered Legolas' body with his own once more and cupped the prince's face to capture him in another heated kiss.

Lips collided with bruising force, long limbs entangled with abandon, sable and gold mingled wantonly upon pale shoulders and snowy sheets. Their forms moved with passionate fervor upon the bed, uncaring of anything save what all senses could savor of the other. Their joint rapture flowed freely and fiercely between them, rendering them almost breathless with the ferocious intensity of it.

By the time Elrohir lifted his hips and legs, Legolas lacked the strength or will to resist anything the warrior might wish to do with him. He groaned as he was taken deeply and thoroughly. Eyes streaming from this pleasure, he could only lie helplessly as he was repeatedly speared. He had not forgotten how formidably endowed his mate was but mere memory could not compare with the actual experience of it after so long a time. When Elrohir began to stroke him as well with every thrust, he at last broke down and openly wept.

"Please... I need to hold you," he implored between sobs.

Nearly as undone by his mate's plea as by the exquisite sensation of his enclosing warmth, Elrohir swiftly released his hands. The prince at once reached for him and pulled him close, sealing his lips in near frantic need to the warrior's. The exchange of thought and feeling between them coupled with their own raging pleasure completely unraveled them.

Legolas cried out against Elrohir's mouth, echoed an instant later by the Elf-knight as they both reached the summit of their loving almost simultaneously. They held each other tightly as they rode out the results of their vigorous coupling.

In the aftermath of their union, Legolas lay back trying to catch his breath and await the slowing of his heart. Elrohir reached over and drew him close. He gazed at the warrior, taking in every fair feature in wonder and thankfulness.

"I love you so, Elrohir _nín_"—my Elrohir—he murmured, eyes glistening with cerulean clarity.

Elrohir smiled. "I trust you are no longer afraid?" he quietly said.

Legolas shook his head. "I am all too convinced that you are indeed restored to me," he laughed softly. "Thank you for assuring me in so sublime a manner."

"Do not thank me yet, Calenlass," Elrohir said. "I am hardly done with you."

Legolas caught his breath and stared at his mate. The twilight eyes were darkening with every passing minute. Legolas knew then that the twin's passion was not yet spent but merely banked for the moment.

"Are you not weary?" he quavered, unsure whether he was trembling in delight or trepidation.

"Far from it," Elrohir purred.

He shivered with delicious expectation as Elrohir leaned over to kiss him. Countless wild heartbeats later, he found himself on his side with Elrohir behind him, gasping with each delving entry into his body. Spending himself yet again into the warrior's too skillful hands, he subsided in a limp heap, whimpering with pleasure as he felt his core blessed with the Elf-knight's warm seed.

To his surprise, Elrohir did not withdraw from him but only held him closer in the curve of his body.

"Aduial?" he whisperingly said, turning his head to glance at his mate.

Elrohir kissed him gently and shook his head. "You always enjoyed prolonging our oneness," he reminded the archer. "Has that changed?"

Legolas' eyes widened. And then he smiled luminously. "You remember," he said in a hushed voice. At Elrohir's nod, he took another draught of the warrior's lips. "Nay, that has not changed at all."

He settled happily against his spouse, secure in his embrace, the knowledge and sensation of their continued togetherness erasing the last of his doubts and anxieties.

Elrohir was truly returned to him. For good.

Glossary:  
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)  
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)  
gwanur - brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

_To be concluded_…


	154. Aduial 22 Soul's Promise

**AN:**To everyone who followed the series and made me feel welcome with their kind words and encouraging reviews, my heartfelt gratitude and warmest regards.

_**Aduial: Soul of a Knight**_  
_by Eressë_

Epilogue: Soul's Promise  
As they rode out into the forest with the rest of the party, Legolas felt Elrohir's gaze upon him and he glanced at the twin. A meaningful gleam lit the Elf-knight's pewter eyes from within, making the archer blush. It reminded him all too vividly of what had passed between them this morn.

He had awakened from blissful slumber to the feel of Elrohir's mouth upon his shaft, coaxing him out of sleep, teasing him into full awareness and a potent arousal. But the twin had wickedly declined to do anything further about that and lured him instead into the warm bath he had prepared for both of them.

Once in the balming heat of the bathwater, however, Elrohir had turned on him with roguish ardor, making every stroke and caress and kiss an incendiary gesture. Somewhere along the way, he'd found himself on a thick towel on the floor by the bath, writhing and gasping wildly whilst the twin finally paid loving attention to the rampant need between his thighs.

No sooner had he spent himself in Elrohir's gifted mouth than the Elf-knight had taken him in turn, summarily burying himself to the hilt in the velvety confines of his ever so eager form. Then he'd driven relentlessly into him while his hands and mouth brought his body back to thrumming, thrashing life. The result of such treatment was explosive to say the least.

Legolas felt his blush deepen as he recalled the knowing grins upon the faces of their immediate neighbors in the nearby royal pavilion. Elladan and Nimeithel, Gimli, Glorfindel and Erestor, Elendir, and Elros and Lindir had not hidden their amusement at all when they met up later in the morning. As for their not-so-immediate neighbors – well, nothing could quite adequately evince the exasperated countenances of their respective parents. He could only imagine who else had heard his too fervent vocal expressions of pleasure and hoped not everyone had recognized the owner of said expressions! The Hobbits, at least, seemed oblivious, thank the Valar.

Trust a Peredhel twin to make you lose all sense of propriety, he ruefully thought.

This morning both families and friends set out on a picnic. They made for the forest river that marked the boundary of the Woodland Realm. Here they would eat and drink and simply enjoy each other's company. They did not mind when several other groups of Elves came to the river. It was, after all, a popular location for such revels, its beauty and serenity soothing to all and sundry. Besides, with the festival just over, it was not surprising that many Elves would seek ways to unwind from the festivities of the previous days.

After the meal, Legolas took a leisurely stroll along the riverbank while waiting for Elladan and Elrohir to conclude a lively debate with Erestor. He looked back and grinned as he regarded his spouse's animated gestures. The twins had never done anything by halves; from the looks of it, Erestor was in for a long and fearsome discussion. Deciding to go back and help a nettled Glorfindel break up the rapidly escalating argument, he retraced his steps only to be suddenly hindered by an unexpected obstacle.

He glanced frowningly at the Elf who had barred his way and inwardly groaned. Bregon. It would have to be him. He forced a civil smile upon his face.

"My dear prince," the other Elf cooed. "I could hardly believe my good fortune to find you here as well."

"Good fortune?" Legolas commented. "Last I recall, I left you sitting in a pond. You can hardly wish to be in my presence after that incident."

The Elf laughed with spurious penitence. "I do not hold it against you, golden one," he said glibly. "I admit I had imbibed too much and may have been more forward than you were used to."

Forward? Legolas thought incredulously. The fool had tried to take him right in Celebrían's gardens! His smile turned visibly frosty. Unfortunately, such subtle nuances seemed lost on the brash Elf before him.

"Well, 'tis pleasant to see you again," Legolas lied through his teeth. "Now if you will excuse me..." He lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell.

To his shock, Bregon caught his hand in a steely grip. He stared at the other Elf, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You take too many liberties, Bregon," he warned.

"Nay, I am but merely preempting another unfortunate flip into chill waters," Bregon chuckled crooningly. "I have no desire to take a swim in the river this morn. As they say forewarned is forearmed. You are as mettlesome as you are beautiful, Legolas, but as you can see, I came prepared in case you tried that little trick on me again." He leered suggestively at the prince. "A nice move, I must admit. Mayhap I should try it myself. You would look utterly stunning lying on your back, my fair one."

Legolas was rendered speechless by the sheer crudeness of his pursuer. A slow rage began to build up within. What did this insolent creature take him to be? A tawdry bed-treat?

"You are quiet, my prince," Bregon grinned smugly. "Mayhap you think my declaration lacking. Let me complete it thusly. You would look utterly stunning lying on your back and even more exquisite with the right Elf between your thighs."

That was it! He was on the verge of beating up this pathetically hopeless idiot within an inch of his life when movement behind the latter caught his attention. Over the persistent Elf's shoulder, Legolas espied a figure rapidly nearing him and Bregon.

He looked back at the other and with deceptive mildness said, "I think you'd best unhand me right now."

Bregon smiled and replied, "I think not, _cunn lend_."—sweet prince. "Not until you've given me some token of, shall we say, encouragement?" He lustfully beamed at the prince and raised the latter's imprisoned hand to his lips.

A powerful hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. Bregon yelped as he was slammed against a tree with a very solid forearm rammed against his windpipe. He found himself lifted a few inches off the ground, goggling frantically as his air supply dwindled to nothing. A pair of silvery eyes glared icily at him.

"_He. Is. Mine._" Elrohir's voice seethed with barely contained rage. "Keep your hands off him lest you desire a prolonged stay in the gardens of Lórien!"

The twin abruptly let go of the choking Elf. Bregon fell in an inelegant heap, clawing at his much-abused throat. But a moment later, he was roughly hauled up by the scruff of his neck and unceremoniously hurled into the river, the Elf-knight coldly oblivious of his shrieks of terror.

After dusting off his hands disdainfully, Elrohir grabbed Legolas by the wrist and walked away, unmindful of the shocked stares upon them. Just as the warrior pulled him away, the archer glanced at the hapless, floundering Elf and called out, "I warned you!"

He allowed Elrohir to lead him a fair distance from the rest of party. He grinned as he listened to the warrior's muttered oaths in Quenya, Sindarin, Westron and even a few choice words in Rohirric and Dwarvish. Suddenly, Elrohir came to a halt and turned on his heel to face Legolas.

"Lecherous, presumptuous knave!" he growled. "Just who is this Bregon to you?"

"He is merely an Elf who tried to seduce me before your rebirth," Legolas answered with a small smile.

Elrohir's eyes flashed furiously. "And just how did you respond to his enticements?" he demanded ominously.

The prince smirked. "I flipped him into the pond in your mother's garden to douse his ardor."

The twin stared at him in surprise though his anger did not completely dissipate. He laughed dryly. "Did you now?" he said. "Yet judging from his persistence, it seems his ardor was not doused enough."

"It is now," Legolas grinned. "Your return is timely, Elrohir."

"So it would seem."

Legolas wondered at his mate's jealous response. "_Melethen_, you were the only _ellon_ whose touch I could bear, the only one I desired," he softly said. "And now, you are the only _Edhel_ I want. Do you not trust me?"

Elrohir cast a glance in the direction of the other Elves. With the exception of his and the prince's immediate families and household members, the rest were watching them with ill-concealed curiosity. He frowned.

"Oh, I trust _you_, Legolas," he replied. "But _they_ are another matter. 'Tis intolerable that they should continue to approach you in my presence."

"You only recovered your memories but four days ago," Legolas reminded him. "They do not know you recall our binding."

Elrohir's frown deepened into a scowl. "Then I think 'tis time I made it clear once and for all just who you belong to, _ernil daur_."—forest prince.

He suddenly pulled Legolas into a crushing embrace and, in front of everyone, kissed him with such burning zeal as to ensure no one would ever dispute his ownership of the youngest prince of Taur Galen. When he finally saw fit to end the kiss it was clearly apparent he had succeeded beyond measure for every Elf, _ellon_ or _elleth_—male Elf or Elf-maid—who did not know of the full return of his memories, now looked on aghast. And amongst those who had sought to woo the archer despite his espousal to Elrond's younger son, belated consternation as well. Some hastily made themselves scarce before the Elf-warrior's baleful regard should be drawn to their shameful selves.

Flushed and panting slightly from Elrohir's passion, Legolas humorously noted the mirth of Elladan and Nimeithel and their twins, the resigned demeanors of Glorfindel, Erestor and Lindir, Gimli's rolling eyes, the wide-eyed stares of the Hobbits and the long-suffering expressions on the faces of his and Elrohir's parents.

He chuckled a little breathlessly. "I think you have more than made your point," he smiled.

He did not doubt that word would spread swiftly that it was no longer safe to even look covetously at him, much less dare to approach him for anything more than platonic reasons. That was a relief the prince was looking forward to.

His blue eyes turned serious. "Never leave me again, Aduial," he whispered, tilting his head so that his brow touched the Elf-knight's.

Elrohir's eyes softened and he solemnly murmured, "I promise, Calenlassen, I will never leave you again."

Legolas smiled in joyful contentment. For this was one promise that would be kept. An eternity of love stretched out before them. There could be no greater bliss.

Glossary:  
Edhel - Elf  
melethen - my love  
Aduial - Twilight  
Calenlassen - my Greenleaf  
The End

**Postscript:** As archived in other sites, G&I still has one more part to go. But I've decided not to post that story here for the simple reason that it features a most improbable case of "mpreg". It was written on a mad whim and meant to end an oft turbulent and angst-ridden series on a light-hearted and humorous note. It is not to be taken seriously at all. Indeed, _Aduial: Soul of a Knight_ did stand (before a most outrageous flight of the imagination got the better of me) as the final tale in this series. Slash is enough to elicit negative reactions from those who cannot abide it. What more "mpreg", even a tongue in cheek rendition of it? I do not think the potential aggravation is worth it. I am inclined to post my other stories here as well but they will need a fair amount of editing first since they're more explicit than this series. In any case, this proved a pleasant and quite interesting experience and I'm glad I decided to give FF(.)net a try. Again, thanks to one and all - you had a part in helping me come to this positive conclusion.


End file.
